


Into the Open Air

by SilverSlashes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bottom Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Hunter Tony Stark, Implied/Referenced Torture, Infidelity, Ireland, M/M, Mild Gore, Multi, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Switching, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threesome - M/M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Top Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Victorian, Werewolf Bucky Barnes, Werewolf Steve Rogers, Werewolves, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, no actual non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:39:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14742152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSlashes/pseuds/SilverSlashes
Summary: A Stuckony story based very loosely on the myth of the faoladh, or Irish werewolves, and the song Into the Open Air, from the Brave soundtrack.Steve is a werewolf missing his mate. Tony is a retired hunter desperate for a cause to take up. They're both looking for something out in the idyllic, Victorian Irish country-side. They both find it. But the entanglements of love and honor, the bonds of pack and family, and the capricious nature of fate and forgiveness could force three hearts together or tear them all apart.





	Into the Open Air

**Author's Note:**

> I blame a lot of people for this fic. Mostly I blame the Marvel fandom for shoving me firmly across almost every line I thought I'd never cross. I'm normally a sprinkling of angst type of writer, but damn did the lid fall off the shaker on this one. Still a happy ending, because I can't not. Also, still some hot sex, because I can't NOT.

I highly recommend listening to this song before you read, to add to the experience.

[Into the Open Air](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSzf1ntbDvw)  
  
"This love, it is a distant star  
Guiding us home wherever we are  
This love, it is a burning sun  
Shining light on the things that we've done"  
  
  
  
Tony woke to the sound of movement upstairs. No doubt it was the lady from the village who came to clean and cook once a week. He picked his head up from where it lay on his arms, his upper body sprawled across his wooden workbench and his numb ass precariously balanced on a stool. He had fallen asleep in his workshop again.

Outside he could hear bird song, which meant it was morning. But, he honestly didn’t know which morning. How long had he been asleep? He decided he might as well drag himself upstairs to speak with… damn, he couldn’t remember her name. The cellar was dim, so he stood at the top of the stairs and adjusted to the sunlight spilling through the open windows of the house.

It was a nice house. It looked homey when he’d seen it and decided to purchase it. His dear, posh mother would have called it a cottage to be kind, but it in fact had 4 bedrooms and a formal dining room. It was adorably middle class and Tony loved it.

He moved into the kitchen to have a delightful conversation with his hired help, in which he still didn’t learn her name and she brandished a ladle at him with the admonishment that gentlemen were not to be in their own kitchens. He wondered what she thought he did the other 6 days of the week she wasn’t here.

He shrugged and moved into his study to sit behind his desk with the cup of tea he had wrangled out of his adventures in the kitchen. Sighing to himself he picked up a piece of paper and wrote a letter to Rhodey. Not knowing that just down the lane from him someone else was also drafting a letter in his own sort of quiet desperation.

  

 

Rhodey,

What was I thinking retiring to the Irish countryside? It is duller than every ball Lord Hammer ever hosted, and I would know, I went to enough of them. You really must come visit me. I am bored out of my mind. Of course, when things become too intolerable I think about all the invitations I would be receiving right now to all the ton events. I’d rather die of boredom out here on the moors than spend one more second getting fans flapped in my face by coquettish debutantes younger than some of the guns I own. Good Christ! At least the Irish countryside doesn’t judge how much scotch I’m drinking or how much I’m sleeping or if my shirt-tails are un-tucked.

You inquired in your previous letter whether I am well, even though you know I don’t care to dwell on such things. I am sleeping. I am eating. I do a fair bit of wondering. The tavern in town is warm and the townsfolk are decent enough. You know that I could not abide London any longer. I could not spend one more second on soil that seems soaked with blood. I close my eyes and see the flames still, a brilliant red and gold across the night sky. I hear the screams. At least here there is solace in my tinkering. There is escape in my books. There is the howling of the chill wind at night to drown out but all else.

You really must come visit. I currently have quite the mystery on my hands. A regular case for that Sherlock Holmes you read so much about. I have been enjoying fresh eggs out of my hen house, a holdover on the property from the previous owner that I restocked as it were. But, last night, I was awoken by a terrible ruckus. Something got to the hens. I tore out of the back door with my rifle and nothing but my breeches on, ready to come to the aid of my lady chickens. And wouldn’t you know, in the moonlight I see the glimmer of sleek fur darting away. This morning I went out to inspect the situation - two hens gone. Egg production is now down by two-thirds. I will be ready for the beast next time… whichever kind it may be.

Seriously though, Rhodey, come visit me. You need some air; it’s stifling in London. I don’t think I’m really convincing you with my rapt stories of the wilds of Ireland, but it really would do you good. As much as I hate to admit it, I made the right choice.

Sincerely Yours,

Tony

 

 

Dear Bucky,

I know that writing these letters is for me and not for you. I have placed each one in a stack on the desk for I do not know where to send them. Natasha says that you are dead and how could you be alive? I know the hard truth of what she says and yet my heart cannot believe it. I would know.

I would know, Buck. You used to make fun of me when I spoke of the soul mate bond, legends, whispers, among our kind. You can laugh, but I know that if bonds like that did exist then they would certainly exist between you and I. Maybe that’s why I’m still searching, because a part of me thinks I would know if you were dead. I would feel it. I can almost hear you laughing at me now as I write this. A romantic fool, that’s what you have called me. And yet, still, I am, for you.

I have written many letters already that are just apologies. Over and over again I have apologized. Over and over again I have relived that night so many months ago. You were right behind me Buck. You were right there. We were running together. We should have never split up. It was a bad plan. I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight. And now, I do not know if I will ever see you again. I will keep looking. I will run until you are running by my side again.

Love,

Steve

 

  

Natasha was wiping down the bar when Steve shuffled in to the tavern. She raised an eyebrow at him and nodded to the other side of the bar where a man was huddled over a half empty glass of whiskey, telling her a story. Or, possibly, the man was just speaking out loud and Natasha happened to be the only person in the room with him. His accent was British, distinctly London, posh.

“… and then it just scampered off into the woods. Two of my chickens, gone! I bet it was a werefox, they’re willy, you know?”

Steve’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline, because, first of all, he doesn’t look anything like a werefox. That’s ridiculously offensive. A _werefox_? Who the bloody hell was this guy? And, also, Steve may have eaten a chicken or two, but honestly, he couldn’t remember exactly where he got them. So, he supposed it was plausible that he stole some chickens last night. He immediately felt guilty as he slides up to the bar and side-eyes the guy. But, still, a werefox? Fuck werefoxes.

Natasha smiled at Steve as she poured him some ale, still nodding sympathetically at the posh guy’s story. She grinned evilly at Steve before she says in the casual, friendly tone that Steve knows she reserves for customers she thinks will tip well, “can’t say I’ve ever seen a werefox around here. But, we’ve got a faoladh. A werewolf. I’ve heard stories, going years back now, seems to come and go from the area. Protective. Not aggressive. Mister Banner, the tailor, swears by everything the creature saved his son from drowning a few months ago.”

The man’s head snapped up and Steve got an impression of keen, dark brown eyes and a handsome face that’s maybe seen too much. Those eyes narrow as he says, “a faoladh? Interesting.”

Steve gave Natasha a hard look, but she just smiled serenely at him before taking the now empty glass away from the strange man, “if you can believe it, some of the stories say we even have two faoladhs protecting this town, and that’s double blessed if you ask me. Course, we had some hunters come through a few months ago,” Natasha sneered.

The stranger, for reasons Steve isn’t prepared to examine, looked just as stricken by Natasha’s words as Steve is. He allowed himself to really look at the posh lump on the barstool; he seemed exactly what Steve would imagine a man from London would look like getting drunk in a bar in the middle-of-nowhere Ireland. There was sadness about him though, almost as if he was wearing an invisible traveling cloak that no one else could see, but that weighs his frame down. Steve knew something about that these days.

“I have chickens,” Steve blurted out.

The stranger turned to look at him as if just noticing his presence and raised one eyebrow. Natasha looked confused simply because she knew that Steve, did not, in fact, have any chickens.

Steve felt his cheeks heat up but he can’t help it. It felt refreshing, honestly, he hasn’t felt normal emotions like empathy or embarrassment in months, it was almost nice, so he continued, “I uh, you’re new in town? I think I live close to you? I could bring by some chickens tomorrow?”

The man tilted his head as if Steve confused him, but then he reached a hand out and Steve shook it, “I’m Tony.”

 “Just Tony?” Steve smiled.

Tony shrugged, “just Tony, for now.”

“Well, just Tony for now, I’m Steve.”

 Natasha smiled in a knowing way and Steve would certainly have to speak with her the minute Tony leaves because the smug look on her face was concerning.

 

  

Rhodey,

I take back everything I have said before now about the Irish countryside. It is fantastic! I have a neighbor. His name is Steve. He brought me chickens earlier this week. I’m not sure why he felt the need to honestly. But, it’s like I always say, never take rakish looking men offering free chickens for granted. Honestly, I think he overheard my werefox incident story while I was drinking at the tavern and was kind enough to bring me replacement chickens, though dickens if I know why he wouldn’t let me pay for them. Country folk are strange. But, pleasing to look at. At least, this one was. Steve. His name is Steve.

Steve has been living in this little town for some time. He’s a carpenter by trade. He inquired after my own origins, politely, but all I explained to him was that I wanted to retire away from London. I know you know how loath I am to reveal myself here. I want a quiet life. I want to be left alone in my _retirement_. I want freedom from my title and freedom from the duties that come with the Stark name. You told me months ago that I had earned that. I am working everyday to believe it.

I almost forgot to tell you, last night, there was another chicken coop incident. No casualties. In fact, I am not quite sure that I did not dream the entire occurrence up. I’m not sure what woke me, possibly the disgruntled hen noises. I crept to the back door, gun at the ready, quite prepared to let a werefox know my wrath. But, when I threw the door open it was to the sight of the naked backside of a man streaking away into the dark.

I tell you again, I am not sure I did not dream it up. But, how could I have summoned in my mind such a glorious backside? Rhodey, I know you are very keen on the details and so I will tell you that it was not unlike the statue of David.

The strangest part is that this morning not only were all hens still accounted for, but, in fact, there seems to be an over abundance of eggs. It is the strangest thing, and I’ve seen strange. It is a mystery of the highest order, this chicken coop debacle. I will take the extra eggs to the woman that works in the tavern, Natasha, she sells eggs in the market on Saturdays.

Sincerely,

Tony

 

 

Bucky,

I think I have finally cracked. My days are filled with missing you. My nights are filled with nightmares of what might be happening to you every minute, every hour I cannot find you. I have searched. I have scoured the countryside. I have visited all the surrounding towns. The weeks after you disappeared, I did not stop, I did not rest. But I have reached the end of my rope. I am an arrow, strung taunt on a bow, with nowhere to aim.

We have a new neighbor. You would like him. His name is Tony. He is handsome, even Natasha says so. He is witty and brash and fond of drink. He moved here from London. He seems well to do. He said he wished to retire to the quiet of the countryside, but I suspect he craves anonymity. He has refused to give his last name. But, there is more to him than meets the eye. I may have gotten into his chicken coop. I told you, I’m a mess without you. I’m _prowling_.

Buck, he told Natasha that he thought I was a werefox. I can see your face now. I know! A fucking werefox! The man is certainly well versed in weaponry. Yet, he didn’t shoot at me, just yelled about needing eggs as I took off running. There is more to our new neighbor, I am sure of it.

I felt obligated to replace the chickens I ate. But, then I also considered that his egg count might be low in the days it took me to replace the chickens. So, I got Natasha to teach me how to pick a lock and I have been sneaking over there at night this week and putting eggs into the coop without eating a single chicken. I was almost caught again the first time, but still, no shots fired. Tony is a mystery indeed.

I can feel you rolling your eyes at me. I know that if you were here right now, you’d be cuffing me upside my head and probably cussing me for good measure. I have missed you every day. I don’t know what to do anymore Buck. I can’t give up, but I can’t see a way forward. I can’t see my way to you.

Love,

Steve

 

 

Natasha handed the eggs over to Steve with a scathing look, “you know you’re a fucking mess, right? I mean, you almost got shot reverse thieving a chicken coop, and all you can think about was how attractively the guy holds a gun?”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean,” Steve looked smug, “thanks for teaching me how to pick a lock, by the way. It was much easier to get into a chicken coop on two legs than it was on four. And he didn’t even shoot at me. I think he was expecting a werefox,” Steve’s brow furrowed again at the notion, “and wasn’t sure what to make of a human. I was gone before he could recover his wits.”

Steve looked pleased with himself and Natasha looked all sorts of disappointed, “again, I repeat, you’re a bloody mess.”

Steve stuttered a breath in and out, hanging his head, “I’m a mess without Bucky, I always have been.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “yeah, and Tony could help you get ‘em back. I told you that last week when you first met, I sensed something between you two. I know he can help,” her eyes bore into his as she emphasized again, “I _know_.”

She glanced around to make sure no one else was listening to their conversation, “you’re a good little wolf, a faoladh, he will not hurt you,” her grin and voice are suffused with mirth, “unless you maybe ask him nicely.”

“Natasha!” Steve felt his chest tighten and then sink because, “Bucky…”

The smile fell off Natasha’s face, “I know, Steve, I know. But, I am telling you, Tony is a good man. Whatever else he may be. You can trust him with your secret.”

“Because you have a feeling?” Steve knew Natasha has a touch of real magic, but he remained somewhat skeptical of her abilities.

“Romany don’t have feelings, we have the sight and _curses_. And I swear if you don’t talk to Tony I will curse you,” Natasha jabbed a butter knife in his direction.

Steve looked down at his plate, “you told me the week he was taken that he was dead. Was that a feeling as well?”

Natasha looked down, shaking her head, “I told you that because I didn’t want to watch you hope. I thought it best…” she trailed off.

Steve nodded, slipping off the bar stool, laying some coins down and walking out of the tavern.

He would talk to Tony tomorrow. But first, maybe an evening run to clear his head.

 

 

Tony knew now that it had been a mistake to go walking about on the moors this close to dark and without a lantern. But, at least he’d thought to bring a pistol and a cloak. This was the price he was paying for trying to exhaust himself to sleep, he was lost in the vastness of rolling hills to one side and dark forests to the other.

Tony decided finally to simply sit down and wait for morning to arrive. There were no predatory animals native to Ireland after all and he wouldn’t freeze to death. It was better to just wait for light. He could be 50 feet from the town at this point and not be able to see anything unless someone lit a candle in a window. With the moon he could make out vague shapes and he could see his own hands, but that was about it.

He’d just settled down, his back to a tree on the edge of a thick tree line and his cloak draped around him, when he heard the thudding sound of something large running. It was something four-legged, but not a horse. The thudding stopped suddenly, a sniffing noise and a low whine from the forest on the other side of the tree sounded and Tony knew his heartbeat would give him away so he drew his gun and waited.

Wolves had been extinct in Ireland for over 150 years and so Tony knew that the only thing this creature could be was something he’d rather not have to kill. He heard the slow path it took around the wooded area at Tony’s immediate back, coming up on Tony’s right. He could just make out the outline of what could only be a massive wolf emerging slowly from the darkness, but oddly low to the ground.

Tony couldn’t make out what he was seeing at first until he realized that the wolf was belly crawling towards him, head low. Tony cocked his pistol and the wolf froze and whined low again. Tony was oddly charmed. He had only met a handful of werewolves who didn’t want to kill him on sight, but he wouldn’t be facing self-imposed exile in Ireland if he thought all of them deserved death. And this giant beast didn’t show any sign of wanting Tony dead.

Tony un-cocked the gun and the wolf lifted its head from where it was still laying on the ground, not 20 feet away at this point. It started crawling forward again until it was only about 5 feet from Tony and then it simply lay there, attempting to make itself as non-threatening as possible.

Tony took a deep breath and sighed it out, keeping the gun in his hand but not at the ready, “well, faoladh, you and I meet at last. You protect this town, so I’ve been told.”

The wolf raised it’s head and yipped and Tony laughed, “well, if I remember correctly you are a protector of the lost, correct?”

He gestured to himself, “and I happen to be lost.”

The wolf tilted its head considering before rising up on all fours, and dear Lord it really was large, even for a were. Tony rose up from the ground, dusted himself off and tucked his gun back in its holster, “lead the way.”

Tony talked to fill the silence as he traipsed behind, the wolf staying just ahead of him but visible enough for Tony to follow. If his father could see him now, following a werewolf around in middle of the night like it was some sort of spirit guide. Except, fuck Howard because Tony’d had a hunter try and kill him in cold blood recently and this wolf was leading him to safety. Probably. Most likely.

“The, uh,” Tony knew that weres could understand just like humans, so he reminded himself that he was talking to a person, “the woman in the tavern said that the townsfolk thought there were two of you.”

The wolf stopped in his tracks, looked back at Tony, then looked back towards wherever they were headed. Suddenly the wolf threw its head back and gave a long, low, mournful howl. Tony felt all the hairs on his body stand on end. He had the sudden urge to cross himself like his mother taught him.

The wolf shook itself a little, its fur moving about in the night breeze and the moon glinting off its dark pelt. It started walking again and Tony followed in silence now because Tony was a man who knew grief intimately and that howl he just heard was the sound a heart makes when it has known loss.

They end-up back at Tony’s house in short order, he would have been able to find his way home no problem in the light. As they crossed the yard the hens made startled noises, sensing the nearness of a predator. The wolf made a playful growling noise as he eyed the coop, “please don’t eat my chickens again... I know it was you last time. Can’t believe I thought it was a werefox.”

The wolf gave Tony what could only be described as a deeply offended look as they come to stand at an impasse by the back entrance.

Tony looked at his back door and then at the wolf, now siting in front of him, “so, do I get to know who you are?”

The wolf blinked a few times and then looked at where he knew Tony’s gun was holstered by his side and then back to Tony as if to say, _I’m not the only one keeping secrets_.

Tony barked out a laugh, “well, that’s fair. I suppose we could exchange some information. Come to an understanding, if we’re going to share this little town.”

“Have I met you before, in your human form?”

The wolf nodded. Tony walked up the steps and opened the door, turning back, “I tell you what? I’m going to make some tea. Can’t sleep anyway. So, if you wanna go... change... and come back, then we can have a discussion that’s not me just speaking at you.”

The wolf turned and trotted away into the darkness and Tony just gave it’s retreating back an amused smile, “or not.”

Tony still made tea. He hadn’t been joking about needing a cuppa. He had just settled in to his study when he heard a knock on the backdoor. When he opened it there was neighbor Steve on the other side looking unsure but determined.

“Steve?” Tony was confused as to what his chicken gift-giving neighbor was doing on his back stoop in the middle of the night.

But then Tony’s brain froze and re-calibrated, and he remembered that Steve had been adamant that Tony not pay him for the chickens that Tony now knew the faoladh had eaten. He thought about the (fantastic) naked backside of someone who had seemingly broken into his chicken coop in the middle of the night. He thought about the wolf that had led Tony off the moors and had run away when he had offered tea. And now here neighbor Steve was knocking on his door and... huh.

Tony nodded in understanding as it all came together, “ _Steve_.”

“Tony.” Steve sounded ready to bolt so Tony stood aside and motioned him in.

“Tea's in the study.”

The study that had practically every werewolf-hunting weapon Tony had ever made or owned he realized as they crossed the threshold to the room. _Oops_.

Steve stood stock still as his eyes took it all in, “You’re a _hunter_.” A low growl echoed around the room.

Tony sat down in an armchair, putting himself in a position of vulnerability. Steve realized it too, if his confused head tilt was any indication.

“Retired. Self-excommunicated. As it were. Long story.” Tony threw caution to the wind and took it a step further, he slowly gestured to the other chair and as he did so he tilted his head back and to the side, “join me?”

Showing a wolf your neck was the ultimate form of submission, of non-aggression. Steve actually took a physical step back in surprise, the low rumbling growl he had been emitting cutting off suddenly. He slowly crossed the room to the other armchair opposite Tony by the fire and sank into it slowly as if still expecting a trap. Tony kept his neck on display until Steve was seated.

Only then did he pour tea into a cup, take a drink from it, and then pass it to Steve who sniffed it and very cautiously took a sip. When he didn’t taste anything off and the sharp burn of wolfsbane didn’t spring bitter across his tongue, he relaxed minutely and sat back in the chair.

Tony sipped his own tea, “so, here I was thinking how generous my neighbor was with his gift of chickens and it turns out you ate my hens. 

Steve grimaced, “I don’t normally prowl. I apologize for that _misunderstanding_. It’s been a stressful few months.”

Tony cocked his head to the side, “does that have anything to do with the fact that there are supposed to be two of you?”

Steve was silent for a very long while, “My…” he hesitated and looked to be sizing Tony up, “… mate has been taken by hunters.”

Tony’s eyebrow rose as Steve continued, “he…” Tony’s eyebrow rose higher, “has been missing for over a month.”

Steve looked down into his cup and then up suddenly like he had remembered there was a hunter sitting across from him and it wasn’t a good idea to take his eyes off the enemy in the room.

Tony set his cup down and rubbed his hand over his face and Steve frowned, “you are very unguarded. I could lunge at you right now. Unless you are hiding a pistol somewhere in that chair or in the back of your breeches, I doubt you’d be able to do much in the time it took me to sink my teeth into your throat.”

Tony laughed darkly and something inside Steve sat-up and took notice, “believe me,” Tony chuckled again but there was still no humor in it, “dying in my home, unarmed, and mauled by a werewolf I invited in to tea would be the ultimate irony.”

Steve’s own ravaged emotions recognized another soul on the brink and his eyebrows came together again, “you want to die?”

Tony shrugged, “I’m not in any hurry, but if you want to kill me I won’t stop you.” 

Steve set his teacup down on the table, “I have never met a hunter like you Tony. Maybe Natasha was right…” Tony didn’t ask what he meant and Steve said, “Why don’t you tell me more about yourself?” 

“Well, for starters how about my full name? It’s Anthony Edward Stark.”

Steve’s entire body tensed again and the low rumbling growl started-up again, “a Stark?”

Tony stayed perfectly calm, “indeed. The last of the Stark’s in fact.”

“Your family is infamous. Generations of hunters. The stories I have heard…” Steve looked ready to bolt.

Tony shrugged, “I’m sure they’re all true. But, I’m afraid I’ve shut down the family business.”

“I’m sorry?”

Tony smiled at Steve’s bewildered look, “it’s done. Over. I quit. My parents are dead. My father’s hunting partner is dead. The land and the houses and the assets have been sold off. The House of Stark is no more. The last vestiges of it have retired here to the Irish countryside to die in anonymity. At least that was the plan.”

Steve seemed momentarily shocked speechless and Tony continued, “I don’t suppose I get to know your full name?”

Steve seemed to think about it and then shrugged like he thought it hardly mattered, “Rogers. My mate's name is Barnes. James Barnes. I call him Bucky…” his voice cracked a little at the end and Tony pretended like he hadn’t heard it.

“So,” Steve straightened his shoulders, “a werewolf hunter that invites werewolves to tea?”

Tony thought for a minute and spoke almost as if to himself, “Rogers? That name sounds familiar, but then, I’m not as well-versed in the Irish packs as I am in the English ones, and the continent bloodlines as well.”

“Bucky and I haven’t been a part of a pack in a long time. It’s just us and this little village that we protect. We don’t bother any one and they don’t bother us… at least, not until recently.”

Tony nodded, “would you believe me that I’m looking for the same thing?”

Steve seemed to consider the question, “I believe, at least for now, that you mean me no harm.”

Tony nodded, “that’s fair. If I helped you get your… Bucky… back? Would that convince you?”

Steve went very still, “you would do that? Why? Your family name means death to me. You should want me dead. I should want you out of my territory.”

Tony pointed to his wall of weapons, “you are right. My legacy is death. My inheritance is blood. My family name is lies. I told you though, I have forsaken it all. I have sold off the properties and the art and the lands. I have kept only enough for myself to live here in exile with the things I have done until death or boredom or my demons relieve me of my senses and I am free.” He sunk back into the armchair as if exhausted.

“So, you’re retired?”

Tony shrugged, “I’m not sure you can retire from the sort of life I led. I have stripped myself of the mantle maybe?”

Steve thought about the offer, “If Bucky is alive. If he is being held by hunters, then I _am_ in need of a hunter, a good one, a famous one maybe, with connections,” Steve’s voice became a rumble, dark and dangerous, “I’ve got a snake pit to find.”

Tony smiled, “and so, you need a snake.”

Steve gestured to the collection of silver throwing knives hanging in a pattern on the wall, “I need a man with a good heart willing to use his skills for the right reasons. And you’re looking to balance the scales, right? That’s why you offered to help? I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Steve nodded, “I think, before we have an understanding, I want the full story. I want to know how a Stark came to be hiding in Ireland offering a faoladh his help.”

Tony sighed, “It is a long story. But, I’ll try to be brief.”

 

 

Tony invented the weapons; he didn’t go out in the field. But, Stane had insisted this time. He needed Tony out in the field. There was an entire pack, dangerous, settled into a house at Broad Street. Tony had just emerged from a year of gin-soaked inventing binges – throwing things at walls, screaming at the top of his lungs, burying his grief in the arms of strangers, and generally tearing London up.

But, recently, Stane had taken to trying to snap him out of it. He had been kind, understanding, and tolerant as long as Tony’s long bouts of sleepless tinkering led to more weapons. This week he’d started insisting on more. He wanted Tony taking over for Howard. He wanted Tony helping him with the hunting, the fieldwork side of their family responsibility.

It was the last thing Tony wanted. But, he also knew he needed to honor his parents death by taking over as the head of the family the way they both would have wanted. So, he had been reluctantly coaxed out tonight with Stane for a simple job. It would be an easy hunt the older man had promised.

Instead Stane had used Tony’s weapons to trap an entire family of weres in a townhouse. Tony had watched the family of five go inside from where he and Stane were staked-out waiting for true night to fall. The youngest one couldn’t have been over three. Tony had asked how they were going to get the children out of the house before taking care of the adults and Obadiah had looked at him like he’d lost it.

“We’re taking out a pack, Stark,” he’d barked with laughter at Tony’s horrified look.

“But we only kill werewolves who break the code. Wolves who kill humans. Those children couldn’t have killed anyone.” Tony was stricken. Had Stane been doing this the entire time? With Tony’s own weapons? Had Howard known about this?

Before Tony could ponder through what to do Stane was rolling his eyes at Tony’s shock and moving into action, slinking across the street, laying mountain ash across the thresholds and windows as Tony stood frozen in the alleyway across the street. This was a man that Tony had trusted, that Howard had called a friend.

But he was doing something that Tony had no frame of reference for. Werewolves could be dangerous and often killed humans and had to be put down. Hunters provided a means through which that cleansing could happen, efficiently. Those guidelines, that reality, had been drilled into Tony his entire life, his birthright. But Stane was executing a whole family without regard for their complicity in any sort of crime against humans.

Worst of all, it seemed as if he had done it before, had maybe been doing it for a while. How many innocent werewolves, people, _children_ , had Stane hurt or killed? Tony stood conflicted for so long that Stane had the entire house well on the way to fully engulfed from the foundation up by the time Tony snapped out of his thoughts.

Tony was jolted out of his reverie by the sudden heat on his face, which he could feel clear across the street, and the sound of shouting and crying from inside the house. Just as Stane was creeping across the street back into the alley to pull Tony away from the blaze and their night’s work, Tony jerked into action. He ripped away from Obadiah and shouted.

“You killed children! With _my_ weapons!” Tony was outraged.

Stane looked shocked that Tony was actually standing his ground. The shock slipped off of his face to be replaced by a truly hideous sneer as he drew his pistol and leveled it at Tony, “They’re not children, they’re _monsters_!”

He sighed then, as if he found Tony’s horror inconvenient, “How is it that the mighty House of Stark came to have the reputation it does? Do you think that generations of Stark men cowered at the idea of doing what was necessary? No! It turned out your father didn’t have the stomach for it either, in the end. But I took care of _that_.”

Tony froze, his entire body going cold and then hot, “what did you say?”

Stane smiled, ugly and dark, “ _surprise_. Your parents had to go boy. Your father was starting to consider removing himself from our partnership. Said he didn’t like how we had started killing werewolves that hadn’t killed anyone. I told him it was just a matter of time. Weres are _killers_. You just have to give them time. But, eventually, their true nature comes out. I told him we were just saving even more lives by skipping a step.”

Tony couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but here he was listening to the vile words just flow out of Stane’s lips, “he would have taken the money with him, and the weapons, I _needed_ your weapons. You stay in your lab, trembling behind your inventions with your dirty, grease-stained hands while I do all the dirty work.”

Stane cocked the pistol, “But, I’ll say this, you do _good_ work. It makes my job easier. I couldn’t just let your father quit. But, if something _unfortunate_ happened to him, well, then you would continue making those weapons for me. It was simple enough to make it look like an accident. And, your poor mother knew everything, she was his right hand, she had to go too.”

“You killed them?” Tony’s mind was reeling and he vaguely could smell smoke, hear the screams still, but he couldn’t move. Stane had killed his mother.

Stane laughed, “god, look at you. The same pathetic weakness. The same inability to _see the vision_. I do appreciate your genius Tony,” Stane looked over at the fire, around them the sound of the neighborhood responding to the dangerous blaze started to stir.

“It’s time to go,” Stane shrugged, “and if you’re not with me, then you’re against me.”

The roar in Tony’s ears became a crescendo as everything Stane was saying solidified in his mind and with a scream he launched himself at Stane just as the sound of a gun going off rang in his ears. Tony felt pain rip through his side but he was too intent on Stane to react to it. He caught the bigger man around the middle and they fell to the ground wrestling.

Stane’s gun clattered away from him on the cobblestones of the alley and Tony reached for the one he had in his holster that Stane had been cocky enough not to take away from him while he held him at gunpoint. Tony rolled away and drew it, cocking it and aiming it at Stane’s head.

Stane just laughed, “you don’t have the guts to kill me boy. I doubt you have the knowledge either.”

Tony laughed bitterly, “You assume that because I don’t have a taste for being in the field, that I’m not capable. Who do you think rigorously tests and trains with all these weapons you take from my _dirty, grease-stained hands_!?” Tony pulled the trigger. Stane was dead before his upper body fell back to the pavement.

Tony lay there for a second until he realized once again that he could smell smoke and hear screaming. The pain in his side was starting to make itself known, but he stumbled to his feet and made his way towards the house. There were people burning inside that needed Tony’s help. He might not have been able to save his own family from destruction, but he could save this one.

  

 

Tony looked away from his blank gaze into the fire, finally back to Steve’s face.

“Did you save the pack?” Steve’s voice seemed merely curious rather than accusatory.

Tony shrugged, his eyes glassy, “I broke the ash lines and I went into the house, but I could barely see. I got down on my knees and started feeling around. I felt the little boy’s hand first. I pulled him out and I went and laid him on the sidewalk. I went back in, this time with a man from the neighborhood who had shown up. We looked, but all we could find was the mother, near where I had discovered the boy.”

Tony’s voice was soft as he looked down into his spent cup of tea, “I tried to go back in but a man from the crowd pulled me back, told me it was too late. The fire brigade had shown up, there was a doctor living a few houses down; he had run down the street and was tending to the mother and son. I just sat down in the middle of the street.”

“A family of 5 and I could only save 2,” Tony wiped at his face, propping his chin in his hand and his arm on the chair, “I still dream about it sometimes… the smoke and the screams and the crowd and the limp little body in my arms.”

“It seems to me that two people who would have died are alive because of you,” Steve’s voice was gentle, “Stane would have done what he did with or without you and you could have walked away or helped him or done any number of things that weren't running into a fire.”

Steve tilted his head in thought, “what happened with Stane?”

Tony smiled grimly, “everyone was so intent on the fire, his body wasn’t even noticed till the next morning. I think in my shock it never even crossed my mind to say anything to anyone about it. It was ruled a mugging gone bad. Of course, the hunting community had their own theories, but none of them came back to poor, mourning, playboy, genius inventor, _bent_ Anthony Stark.”

Tony motioned to the room, “and when I dismantled my family legacy and left London, I’m told the rumor mill said that I _went queer_ finally due to the death of my parents. Rhodey says I was the talk of the ton for months, but they’ve moved on to another scandal now. Just like the hunting community will move forward without the Starks,” a shadow seemed to pass over Tony’s face but Steve didn’t comment on it.

“Well,” Steve held his cup out for more tea as if this were truly some social call, “you have convinced me to let you help. For what it’s worth. We might end up killed, or worse. And for all I know Bucky is dead,” his voice cracked on the last word.

Tony poured out more tea to Steve and himself, sipping on his own tea and looking with interest into the depths of it in politeness so that Steve could have a moment to collect himself, “we will endeavor to hope for the best.”

When he looked up Steve had a small smile on his face, “I suppose.”

Tony thought for a minute, “I will start doing some research. My father kept notes on hunters he dealt with, among other things. I think that there is a family in the area. The Stone family? Viscount Stone? That sounds familiar…” Tony seemed to be speaking to himself now. Steve found it amusing even given the seriousness of the situation, “… of course, we’ll need time to train.”

Steve cleared his throat, “excuse me?”

Tony waved his teacup in the air, nearly sloshing tea about, “well, of course, we can’t go out into the field on a rescue mission without knowing how to work together.”

“How to work together?” Steve repeated. 

Tony rolled his eyes, “my fighting style, your fighting style, our plan of attack, my strengths, your capabilities… we have a lot to do and not much time. We should start immediately. At dawn.”

Steve smirked, “I believe that’s in a few hours.”

Tony grimaced, “ugh, no then, how about 12 hours from now? Meet me in the back by the chicken coop and we’ll go from there.”

Steve met him dutifully at the appointed hour that evening and every evening after that for a week. Steve had wanted to go off looking for Bucky immediately, but Tony said he needed more time to make sure his half-remembered knowledge of Irish hunting families and their holdings was still correct. He had also mentioned explosives and needing time to make something. Steve had been concerned, but honestly desperate enough to not even bat an eye at the term explosives. 

So, they trained. With Tony using Steve’s reflexes and strength to get both of his own back up to combat level. Everything came back surprisingly easy. Steve asked Tony to teach him how to defend against hunter tactics. Tony was loath to try the dirtiest ones, like wolfsbane powder and silver nitrate darts. He didn’t want to actually hurt Steve. They spent a good amount of the training just yelling at one another regarding what the other could take. Tony had never had so much fun in his life honestly.

Steve had a wicked sense of humor when he let it out, and though they were both taking the training fairly seriously due to the situation, they still did a fair amount of laughing at the others expense.

“I didn’t know a wolf could sneeze so much!” Tony was bent over in stitches with tears streaming down his face. He had been trying to show Steve how to avoid wolfsbane powder bombs and he had used fireplace ash to simulate the wolfsbane.

He’d managed to catch Steve right on the muzzle with one and it had not only made him look like he’d stuck his huge furry head in a sack of flour, it had also made him sneeze in wolf form for a good minute continuously. By the eighth sneeze it was Tony who couldn’t breathe.

Steve growled, but it honestly only made him look cuter. Like a large pissed-off puppy covered in ladies face powder. Tony started laughing again, but then yelped as Steve lunged at him, taking him to he ground and pinning him, growling in his face. Tony just smiled, trying to take a deep breath and get a handle on his giggles.

Tony reached up slowly, giving Steve time to move away, before he started wiping at Steve’s muzzle and head and ears to get some of the excess ash off him, “I’m sorry. It _was_ funny though.”

Steve made a grumbling noise, but then he shifted and very human, very naked Steve was lying on top of Tony in the grass, a small smile on his ash-streaked face, _still handsome_ , Tony thought, _unfairly so_.

Steve moved to stand-up, going to retrieve his clothes that he took off when they trained with him in wolf form, “I suppose it was a _little_ funny.”

By the end of the week they were ready to put their plan into action and Tony was almost sad that their training sessions were coming to an end.

  

 

Rhodey, 

If you only knew how ironic my current predicament was. But, of course, I can’t put it into a letter. You should have come to visit me when I implored you to. There is intrigue and adventure to be had in this sleepy Irish village that fate seems to have brought me to. It is funny how the cosmos conspires sometimes, is it not? I had sins and no clear path to absolution, and now behold, the way has been made clear.

There are indeed two faoladh protecting this town. I will see order restored. I will see this town protected. I am training with Steve. Yes, neighbor Steve. I know what you are thinking, but it truly is not like that, Rhodey. At least, not for him. But, good grief he is something to look at. In spending more time with him recently I have also discovered that he is full of a dry sort of humor. I have already benefited from his generosity regarding the free hen incident I detailed in an earlier letter. I do so hate it when beautiful people are also kind. Don’t you? 

I’m sorry I cannot tell you more. I’m sure it would be okay, but letters can sometimes go astray and anyone but you would think me mad if I were to detail my schemes to you. But, I can say this. Battle plans have been drawn. Strategies are being shaped. Alliances have been forged. I had thought that my retreat to the idyllic would be the sum of my penance – not enough in my mind, but too much in your opinion, I know. But the fates have offered me another way. The cleansing of the Stark name continues.

Sincerely Yours,

Tony

 

  

Bucky,

I have in the last few days experienced a rush of emotions as strong as those first few days you were gone that I searched for you. But, it is better this time because shining bright above the fear and anxiety is hope. I was right about Tony, our new neighbor I told you about in my last letter. There were secrets to be had. He is a hunter, and yet, I also discovered, a good man. Natasha was right, again.

It is a long story that I hope I will get to tell you one day, but for now it is enough to say that I trust his motivations. I have won him to our side. He has agreed to help me find you. In the few days I have been training and strategizing with him I am already closer than I have been in months. He is smart and fierce and I am finding that we work well together.

He believes he is damned. He seeks forgiveness for the sins of his family legacy and the part he had in it till recently. But, I find in his story not the repulsion that he does. I see the emergence of a phoenix from a flame. I have witnessed in these last few days that we are often our worst critics. As I watch Tony reach for a peace he does not know he is already capable of possessing, I in turn practice mental self-flagellation over how I am using that to my advantage.

What sort of man am I to let a righteous soul believe he is the Devil so that I may bid him to do the Devil’s work? For that is what it will be. I will become the beast they believe us to be. I will lay waste to those who would dare to take you from me. There have always been limits to my morality, and it seems that the line has always stopped with you Buck. I will work to forgive myself when I know that you are safe again.

Love,

Steve

 

 

Tony had been right about the Stone family and he was pretty sure, thanks to his research and from asking around in the town, that he had been right about the family holdings one county over. It would have been about 20 miles away and based on Steve’s description of where he and Bucky were running when the hunters caught their trail, it sounded like the best place to start. They took horses because Tony couldn’t run like Steve could and they weren’t sure what state Bucky might be in for the journey home.

Tony had in fact met the Viscount Stone he realized while doing his research; a handful of times in his life while the Viscount had been attending to business in London. He was, Tony remembered, oddly attentive of Tony, perhaps overly interested, even when Tony was young, in a way that struck Tony now as alarming.

Though the implications of that were disgusting to consider, Tony thought it gave him a better chance of getting in the door, especially if Tony were willing to intimate that he now returned the Viscount's interest.

Tony had told Steve as much and had been startled when Steve growled low, shaking his head, “I won’t have you selling yourself for Bucky’s freedom. That’s not something I’d ask of you.”

Tony rolled his eyes, “I didn’t say I was going to go through with it, but, you know, just a little flirtation.”

Steve sounded way more agitated than Tony thought the situation called for, “I don’t like the idea of his hands on you.”

Steve sounded possessive and Tony’s eyes widened fractionally at the implications of that before Steve said, “I just… don’t want you doing something you feel… uncomfortable… with…”

Tony just nodded, “noted.”

They had tied the horses and left them about a mile from the castle, in a remote part of the woods. The walk to the Stone manor had been mostly silent and once they’d arrived they had spent at least 30 minutes crouched in the tree line watching the patrol rotation, trying to get a feel for the layout, and discussing the ways their plan might need to change now that they’d seen the castle.

Once they had edged around what parts of the castle they could still using the tree line as cover, they turned to head back towards their horses to make camp for the night.

“Not that we shouldn’t go in to look for him in the chance that he is alive and in there, but it’d been nice to know if he’s in that castle before we go storming it,” Tony said.

That’s when the screaming started. Tony wasn’t sure what would have happened if he hadn’t reacted on base instinct. He just flung himself onto Steve, baring him down to the ground and doing his best to use his assault as a shock tactic. Because if Tony gave Steve any time to recover from the tackle he’d be able to shake Tony off like water from a duck’s back. 

Tony was whispering urgently the moment his body collided with Steve who had been a second from taking off towards the castle, “Steve, listen to me. I know you want to go tearing in there right now but if you do that we all die. Do you understand me? We will lose our bloody lives. _Bucky will die_. 

Another scream ripped through the air and Tony felt Steve’s muscles shifting beneath him, maybe even some fur under his fingertips in places. He continued in a soft, harsh tone, “if he’s screaming, then he’s alive. He’s _alive_. Bucky is alive. But we need a plan. You can’t go charging in there.”

Tony felt the tension drain out of Steve, all the fight leaving him, letting Tony’s body press him into the damp earth of the forest floor.

Tony rested his head in the dip between Steve’s shoulder blades, “thank you. We’ll get him. I promise.”

He heard a soft, sobbing sound escape Steve’s lips as another scream sounded from the castle and Tony just stayed where he was, as if he could shield Steve from the pain of listening to Bucky scream.

 

 

Steve watched as Tony meticulously cleaned each of his weapons by the glow of the small fire they had built. He then checked each of the two explosive devices that he’d built last week, explaining to Steve in what ways they were safe and in what ways they were dangerous.

Steve would be the one placing them and making sure they detonated after all, so he needed to have a basic understanding of how they worked. The sure movements of Tony’s hands fascinated Steve and he was glad the fire had already flushed his skin when Tony glanced up to find Steve staring. Steve was in an odd place, his emotions raw after this afternoon… after hearing Bucky like that… the wolf was pacing inside of him. It was ready to be vicious; ready to avenge its mate.

“Let’s review the plan,” Tony said quietly, startling Steve out of his thoughts.

“At noon you’ll get yourself invited in,” Steve started.

Tony nodded, “right, I think I can convince him I’m looking for a new hunting family to align myself with now that I’m the last of the Starks. I’ve got a ready answer for any suspicions he has. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“I’ll likely be taken to a parlor of some sort on the first floor. I’ll unlatch the windows while I wait for the Viscount to greet me,” Tony smiled, “I’m charming, so I don’t expect it will take long to get the Viscount to show me around. Ideally, I’d like to lay eyes on Bucky and get a feel for his condition before the first explosive goes off.”

Steve nodded, “Meanwhile I have to place two devices carefully around the castle, one by the coal bins in the back courtyard and one in the downspout by the library terrace.”

Tony made an affirmative noise, “that will likely do the most damage.”

Steve continued, “I’ll wait, watching the guards make rounds and listen for your bird call. Barring you being in the heart of the castle, I should hear it from anywhere. I just have to spring up to the window you unlatched without the guards seeing me.”

Tony frowned, “assuming you can tell which window I’ve opened and assuming you can shift mid-leap. You’ll need to be lupine to get the jump and human to grip the ledge.”

Steve scoffed, “of course I can do it. Then, I just wait for the first explosion and start picking my way through the left over guards, moving down towards the dungeon.”

Tony nodded, “if everything goes according to plan, I’ll be making my way up to you with Bucky.”

Steve sighed, “ _if_ everything goes according to plan.”

Tony looked away for a moment, setting his weapons aside and taking a deep breath before looking back to Steve and saying, “if everything doesn’t go according to plan, you do what you have to do to get out of there with Bucky. Don’t worry about me. You hear me?”

Steve frowned, “don’t be dense. I’m not leaving you behind. You don’t even have to be here. You’re _helping_ me. We’re in this together.”

Tony dug his heels in, “this is about getting Bucky back. I can take care of myself. If you have him, no matter what else happens, you go and you don’t look back.”

Steve’s expression was obstinate, “no.”

Tony’s voice was low in anger, “I’m the expendable part of this equation, okay? Do you want Bucky back or not?”

“How can you ask that?” Steve shouted harshly, rising from where he had been sitting, “I’d do anything… _anything_ …” Steve’s voice trailed off and he took a few steps away from the fire, turning his back to Tony and crossing his arms.

Tony got up to follow, placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder tentatively, “I know. I know. I’m sorry I said that.”

Steve still didn’t turn around and Tony had the hunch as he felt Steve tremble underneath his hand that he was crying, “but that’s why I’m telling you, that if any of us make it out of this, I want it to be the two of you.”

Steve did turn then and Tony was right, there were wet tracks on his face, “you’re not expendable, Tony,” Steve said softly.

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but before he could get it out Steve’s mouth was on his. Neither one of them where touching the other, Tony’s hand had dropped when Steve had turned. They were connected only by a soft caress of lips, a question Steve had given, and Tony had answered, pressing forward. He could feel the lingering heat of the fire on Steve’s clothes where their chests brushed as they moved just slightly closer.

Tony felt the wetness of Steve’s tears that he’d been trying to hide, could taste it in the saltiness of their kiss as Tony opened his mouth to Steve’s tongue. It was slow and gentle, a conversation only beginning as Tony flickered his tongue out to touch Steve. And suddenly, it was over.

Steve jerked back, touching his fingers to his mouth with bright eyes full of pain and sorrow and horror. It was in that single instant that Tony knew without question that he was bound for hell, because even with the light of regret shining in Steve’s eyes Tony wanted nothing else than to move back in for more.

Steve was going to be sick. What had he done? Here, now, with the echoes of Bucky’s screams in his head, he had dared to put his mouth on another. Tony was helping him, with no regard for his own life... and Steve had repaid that kindness with tawdriness. He had looked at Tony in the firelight, at the glow of his skin and the sure movements of his hands as he cleaned his weapons. Steve had been mesmerized, had been lost. And in his confusion and turmoil he had betrayed what had become in a short time a budding friendship.

“Tony, I...” Steve didn’t even know what to say.

Tony smiled softly and held his hands up, making sure to wait until Steve was looking directly at him, “Steve, listen, it’s okay. It’s _okay_.”

Steve looked away and down, shame making his throat burn, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Grief is not something that ever really makes sense. Anxiety, panic, fear... sometimes we are not always in control of our actions. We don’t always understand why we do the things we do.” Tony shrugged, “when my parents died, I went a little off the rails. Hell, I tore London up. My exploits were infamous. Just ask the gossip rags.” Tony smiled self deprecatingly.

Steve saw it then, his breath catching in his throat as he saw the _out_ Tony was giving him. Like a man clinging to a life raft in rough seas Steve clutched it with gratitude.

“I suppose you’re right. I don’t know what came over me. I’m in a right state these days. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Tony grinned, “come now, I don’t think that’s quite true. You got all this way didn’t you. And in just a few hours you’ll have Bucky back.”

Tony had turned his back on his family legacy. He had shot the man responsible for his parent’s death in the head. He had saved part of a family of innocent werewolves. He was even now trying to rescue one he’d never even met. But Tony had never done anything as achingly selfless as convincing Steve Rogers that the kiss they’d just shared had been a mistake. That it meant nothing. That it had tasted like tears and adrenaline instead of feeling like everything Tony had ever wanted.

Steve’s smile was grateful, as they turned back to the firelight and their evening vigil, each of them silent under the weight of the darkness and the task ahead of them. They’d wait until the noon hour before Tony went knocking at Stone Manor. Hopefully they’d be out of here by this time tomorrow. _With Bucky_.

 

 

The plan worked spectacularly. It went so well that Tony was on edge honestly, but Stone had no reason to doubt Tony’s claims and his last name got him in most doors even more than a year after his parent’s death. It was only a matter of hours, around nightfall, before Tony found himself standing in the dungeon of the castle with Stone.

Tony looked at Bucky, laid out and shackled to a stone top slab in the center of the room, “And you’re sure it’s secure?”

The Viscount looked smug, “Docile even.”

Tony stepped closer to the table as if he was inspecting Bucky, which he _was_ but Stone didn’t have to know it was for injuries, “How much wolfsbane is it taking to keep it under?”

Tony ran his fingertips down the side of Bucky’s neck and watched his muscles tremble like he was trying to flinch away and couldn’t get his body to comply. It made Tony sick, but they’d be out of here soon.

“I don’t suppose you mind giving me some time alone with it?” Tony tried to put every ounce of depravity into that one sentence. 

Stone narrowed his eyes, “It’s like that, is it?” 

Tony scoffed, “Surely you’re not surprised? I’ve heard rumors about _you_.” Tony looked the Viscount up and down. He was at least 15 to 20 years older than Tony. But Tony had carefully applied his infamous charm in the parlor upstairs and the Viscount was clearly interested.

The Viscount merely shrugged, “Yes, but not with beasts.”

Tony gestured to Bucky, “He’s not a beast right now, is he? Plus, there is a thrill in... taming it,” Tony aimed for smarmy but he was so disgusted with himself that his voice caught, which ended up working in his favor because he just sounded desperately aroused.

The Viscount tilted his head in thought before he grinned, “Anthony I think you will fit in here just fine.”

Tony started unbuttoning his shirt and Bucky seemed to realize then exactly what might be happening and he started to struggle weakly. Tony was definitely going to throw up. At least this was proof that whatever vile torture Bucky had suffered it had not been this. 

Bucky was growling now, still too drugged to do much. 

Tony glanced up at Stone who had been watching Tony’s hands undo his shirt. “I prefer to work without an audience.”

The Viscount grinned. “As you wish, of course. I do hope that you might be willing to grant _me_ an _audience_ later?”

Tony smirked his most attractive smirk, he knew, he’d practiced it, “it would be… my pleasure.”

Once the door shut behind the Viscount, Tony sagged against the table in relief, swallowing the bile down before lifting his eyes to look at Bucky. 

Steve had been right, he was fucking breathtaking even laid out on this goddamned table and strung out on wolfsbane his grey eyes flashed at Tony’s, defiant the only way he could be, saying loudly with just a look, _touch me and I’ll find a way to make you regret it._  

Tony whispered, “I’m here to rescue you. Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you outta here.” 

Tony started quietly and efficiently working on the locks of the shackles with a lock pick, “he said to tell you _I’m with you till the end of the line_.”

Bucky’s eyes widened before he nodded, relaxing on the table and letting Tony work.

“You should scream,” Tony looked to the door. No telling if they were being listened to. 

Bucky arched an eyebrow as if to say, _really_ , before pulling at the chains still attached, tossing his head back and growling, he was still too weak to really scream but he groaned out a few convincing painful _no_ ’s. Tony gave what he considered to be his best manic laugh just as he finished off the last shackle. 

He moved to the door then, listening. Then he moved to the outer walls of the dungeon where the barely man-sized openings at the top had thick bars coated in something suspiciously shiny. Silver. Clever. No matter, they weren’t going that way anyhow.

Tony gave a few birdlike calls and waited. He walked back over to the table where Bucky had miraculously managed to sit-up on his own though he looked like he wanted nothing more than to lay back down.

“Can you walk?” Tony looked at the sluggishly healing cuts and burns and bruises, “you’re drugged enough to keep your healing abilities inhibited.”

Bucky looked at his left arm which Tony was honestly the most concerned about. Bucky saw him looking, “they soaked rope in wolfsbane water and then wrapped it around my arm to see what would happen,” his voice was horse from screaming.

Tony winced, but was glad to see that Bucky was already more lucid than he had been when Tony came into the room. 

Tony shuffled up to Bucky’s side, “well come on, no time like the present to try.”

“You’re going to support me?” Bucky looked incredulous as he looked Tony up and down, “you are _small_ and _human_.” 

Tony scoffed, “firstly, rude. Second, I’m about 3 inches shorter than you. Also, there are no other options.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes but sighed tiredly and let Tony take some of his weight as he slid off the table. God save him from werewolves with attitude Tony thought. No wonder Bucky and Steve were bloody werewolf soul mates. 

Just as they made it to the door the sound of a loud explosion ripped through the air and Tony grinned, “that’s our cue.”

They make it up two flights of stairs and a few hallways without much incident. Tony was practically dragging Bucky at this point, the heavy werewolf leaning into Tony’s side as they made their way through the castle. The process was made more difficult because Tony needed to keep his gun in hand in case they came across guards. But it seemed as if Tony’s diversion had worked and Stone’s men were all moving towards the commotion of the blast.

As they came around a corner in the hallway a guard appeared around the other corner. Before Tony could even raise his weapon a loud growling noise made the man spin around. It was too late though, the massive black wolf was on him, his gun knocked from his hands as Steve sunk his teeth into the man’s neck, cutting off his scream.

That task completed Steve’s blue eyes snapped on to them and with a whine at the sight of Bucky he came sprinting towards them. Tony released his hold on Bucky as the werewolf collapsed to his knees, still unable to shift with the drugs in his system.

Steve came to a halt and pressed his face into Bucky’s sternum as if he were head butting him gently. Bucky’s arms came up around Steve’s furry neck and Tony heard him sob softly in relief. Steve shifted then, standing into the shift and dragging Bucky up with him until they were just two large men embracing, one of which happened to be very naked. Well, Tony thought, they were both pretty naked. Bucky had only been wearing torn breeches when Tony freed him. It was a lot of skin.

Steve seized Bucky’s face, tilting it up and laying a long kiss on his lips. Tony turned away then, giving them what privacy he could and watching the end of the corridor for movement.

Thank God too because a hunter with a rifle came around the corner just as Tony turned. Before the guy could even open his mouth to yell he had a throwing knife buried in his throat. Tony turned back to Steve and Bucky, “we have to go.”

Bucky frowned, “I still can’t shift.”

Tony considered the options, “can you walk on your own now?”

Bucky tried to take a step back from Steve and wobbled a bit, “that’s a no.”

Tony moved towards him, “I’ll have to drag you along some more. Steve can cover us from the back in wolf form. Once we get into the forest we have horses.”

Steve kissed Bucky one last time before handing him off to Tony and dropping back down into his wolf form. They made their way back towards the parlor Tony had been placed in when he first arrived. The window he’d left open for Steve was still ajar. They’d have to drop down from a considerable height but Steve had jumped the same distance from the ground so it was manageable.

It looked like the guards on rounds had taken off for the kitchen area towards the explosion and they managed to get almost into the tree line before Tony heard a shot from behind him as a bullet whizzed past his ear.

Steve turned with a roar, still in wolf form, but Tony yelled for them both to go. He let go of Bucky who stumbled into the forest and Steve who had shifted into human form again. Tony whirled around, already firing at Stone and a small group of his men who were dodging from tree to tree, making his way towards Tony.

Stone was livid, “what sort of hunter turns on his own?”

Tony sneered, taking cover behind a tree and picking off the men flanking Stone one by one, “I told you I still hunt monsters. It’s not my fault you assumed I meant weres.”

Stone was inching closer. Moving less cautiously than was wise, his anger making him reckless. “They are the monsters!” He screamed as he rounded the tree Tony was behind and fired.

He had made the fatal mistake of assuming Tony would be standing behind the tree, but he’d squatted down with his back to the tree as he heard Stone approach. Tony fired upward and his bullet cut through Stone’s chin and into his head. Blood sprayed in both directions, drops of it falling warm and wet onto Tony’s face.

“You’re the monster.” Tony was about to stand up when a second explosion rocked the castle. His work here was done he thought. He just needed a moment to collect himself behind this tree. He heard a twig snap and he had his guns up before he even opened his eyes.

Bucky was walking towards him, on his own, behind Steve, back in wolf form, and Tony frowned, “I thought I told you to go?”

Bucky was swaying on his feet but he looked unbearably smug, stopping a few feet from Tony and Stone’s body as Steve padded closer, “we were, but then I realized that pack members don’t leave other pack members behind. It’s what got Steve and I into this mess in the first place, separating.”

Steve sniffed at Stone’s body as if checking to make sure he was dead as Bucky continued, “and, I don’t know where Steve found a _bloody_ _lunatic_ , lethal hunter willing to work to _save_ weres, but I told him we couldn’t just run away, we had to go back and help. Looks like you didn’t need it.”

Steve had moved his attention over to Tony now, his wolf form at eye-level with Tony where he was still crouched at the bottom of the tree. Tony tried not to flinch as those blue eyes bore into his. Tony responded to Bucky, “I’m not pack.”

Bucky looked ready to faint but he said, “you spill blood for the pack, you’re pack.”

This close to Steve, Tony could see the blood matted in the fur of his muzzle and he was so intent on it that he almost missed the pink tongue darting out to lick at his cheek. Tony was frozen in shock for a second before he realized dazedly that Steve was licking Stone’s blood off his face in warm, wet stripes.

There was a rumbling noise that Tony couldn’t place, not coming from Steve, and when he looked up Bucky smiled, his eyes fierce. Tony smiled a little, looking away from Bucky and his weird growling rumble, but not stilling Steve in his ministrations.

After a moment though Bucky’s eyelids fluttered and he swayed. Tony was pushing Steve away and sprinting over before he had a conscious thought about it. Bucky’s knees went out from under him and he fell backwards into Tony’s arms, who had gotten there just in time to lower him to the ground.

Steve was beside him in an instant in human form, eyes worried, “he seemed to be healing, fighting the effects of the wolfsbane. Why is he suddenly getting worse?” 

“If I had to guess I’d say they kept him on a steady dose of that poison since they captured him, to keep him weak. His body probably cleared enough of it in the last hour or so to actually start a total healing process. The torture, lack of sleep, trying to heal major injuries on wolfsbane, _prolonged exposure to wolfsbane_ … I can’t speak to what that might do to a were’s system. But, I’d hazard that this is a healing sleep, not worsening,” Tony looked up at Steve, “you’re gonna have to help me carry him to the horses. Then we need to get him back to my house.”

Steve stood, lifting Bucky’s body over his shoulder and motioning for Tony to lead, “why your house?”

Tony kept his weapons drawn just in case, “I have a special type of wolfsbane. Rare. It heals instead of poisoning. Like an antidote. I’ve been doing a lot of research on it in recent months.”

Tony turned his head to look back at Steve, “did you know they used to call me the Merchant of Death? In hunter circles? Because of the things I invented?”

Steve shook his head and Tony looked back around towards where they were headed, “well, I’m trying to be, not that, anymore.”

Steve huffed, “so, you moved to Ireland and started doing research on how to help werewolves instead of harm them?”

Tony nodded and Steve adjusted Bucky on his shoulder, “what were you gonna do with this new knowledge?”

“Hadn’t gotten that far,” Tony tilted his head back towards Steve, “I suppose I’ll start with healing him.”

And true to his word, Tony did. Steve worried all though the walk back to the horses, all through the race back to Tony’s house in the early dawn light, all though watching Tony mix and spread some sort of paste onto Bucky’s body. But, it worked. Bucky didn’t wake-up, but his sleep became less a restless exhaustion and more a peaceful sleep.

Tony thought it best not to move him until he woke-up and could move on his own. Steve agreed and Tony graciously opened his guest room to the both of them for however long it took Bucky to heal, knowing that Steve wouldn’t be leaving his side for longer than was necessary.

“I’ll go home, grab a few things, and come right back,” Steve promised.

They were in the kitchen and Tony was cleaning-up the mess he’d made while hastily mixing the medicine to heal Bucky. Steve was working to boil water to wipe Bucky clean of the blood and filth, and now dried paste that covered him, so he could wake-up clean.

Tony nodded, “take your time, I’ll watch over him.”

They looked at each other then, frozen in their tasks, caught up in the heaviness of each other’s gaze.

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve’s words were a reverent whisper and his hand reached out as if to clasp Tony’s shoulder before he seemed to think better of it and withdrew, his eyes tracking away.

Tony took a deep breath, steeling himself for the words he knew he needed to say, “I don’t know if this will make it better or worse, and it’s probably selfish of me, but,” Tony straightened his shoulders, “that kiss was…” he looked into Steve’s eyes then, which had snapped back to his at the word kiss, “I know it happened for the wrong reasons and I know that it can’t ever happen again, but it felt right to me in a way that nothing else ever has.”

Tony sighed, “I wanted you to know that, and that I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_ that it took something very painful happening to you for me to have this fucking epiphany. But, thank you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to right some of the wrongs. Thank you for looking at me and seeing someone worthy of your regard even with all the blood on my hands.”

Steve was speechless. He was immobile. He was rooted to the spot like a tree. Tony’s words made him freeze like a small creature sensing danger on the wind. Because this _was_ dangerous, the things Tony was saying to him. Dangerous words that made him want to forget everything but this moment and press himself to Tony again. This feeling in his gut was beyond grief and fear, it was transcendent, and it was not allowed.

Steve forced words out with lungs that didn’t have any air, “I’m sorry too.”

Tony nodded and turned to exit the room so that Steve could leave with grace. He knew that when Steve returned and Bucky awoke that none of this would ever be spoken of again. There would be a wall between he and Steve from this moment forward that neither of them would have the heart, the will, or the recklessness to climb. Some walls were not meant to be scaled.

Tony was almost out of the doorway when he heard Steve whisper, “You will always be worthy of my regard.”

Tony stayed stock still until he heard the back door open and close again.

 

 

Dear Bucky,

You are alive. You are alive. I am so relieved I do not even know how to contain my elation. Tony and I found you. Buck, he saved you. He is still protecting you, even now. I am sitting in our empty house, writing to you for the last time while he watches over you in his home. I left him alone with you Buck because I trust him implicitly. I trust him with you, the very air I breathe. And it is nice to be able to breathe again, to have you safe and warm and near me again, and to have this nightmare over.

There is a bubble in my heart, there are bees in my chest, and there is a stone in the pit of my stomach. I love you James Buchannan Barnes. Never doubt that. I hope, when you wake, that you understand the choices I made. I hope you can find it in your heart to absolve me of the pieces of myself I have lost in finding you again.

Yours Forever,

Steve

  

 

Rhodey,

It’s possible that I have out done myself this time. My father would be so disappointed, but that is not news. If it wasn’t my proclivities, it was my carelessness. If it wasn’t my disinterest in the family affairs, it was my squandering of money. Lord knows the old man probably looked on from the grave in distaste as I avenged his death because of the manner in which I did it. And now, I have deconstructed our family legacy. I retreated from social life. I have a modest life in the country, living in seclusion.

The final disgrace has come, Rhodey, I have thrown my lot in with the very creatures my last name says I should despise. Again. Irrevocably this time, I’m afraid. It’s serious. I’m serious. It does not matter, how I feel. But, it is nice to know that I can feel this passionately. I did not know honestly if I was capable of such things or if I was deserving.

What matters now is this – that I had red in the ledger, generations of blood on my soul that seemed to outweigh any good done in the process. But, I feel as if my recent actions have balanced the scales a little. It was cleansing to be able to use my legacy towards right action. I know as I sleep tonight I will not dream of flames. My conscience no longer smells of smoke.

Sincerely Yours,

Tony

 

 

It took Bucky days to heal and eventually he was stable enough for Steve to get him back over to their home. They both thanked Tony profusely and he just smiled and said, “it was my honor.”

Bucky had reached up and placed his warm hand on the side of Tony’s neck, a place of vulnerability and a show of friendship among weres, “I can now say that there is at least one hunter I’m glad to know.” 

If he noticed Steve’s trembling or Tony’s pleased but shocked look, Bucky gave no indication. He just dropped his hand and let Steve assist him out the door and down the lane.

Tony touched the warm spot on his neck and thought somewhat hysterically, _there’s two of them_. He hadn’t really allowed his mind to dwell on the afterwards part of this adventure. But now he realized that these two men, these faoladh, would go back to being his neighbors, now maybe friends?

Tony couldn’t think of it too much or he’d go insane so he did what he did best, threw himself into other things. He called in the lady who did his cleaning and cooking for him weekly and paid her extra to do the linens on a day it wasn’t her day to do them. He aired the house out. And then he retreated to his workshop in the cellar of the house and forgot what day it was for a few days. 

He didn’t have a single other thought about werewolves, at least no one could prove that, until he found himself at the tavern one evening a few days later and Steve and Bucky were already there. They waved him over to their table and he nodded and gestured to the bar. 

This was the moment of truth. _Be a neighbor. Be a friend. Just be yourself_. Tony repeated that mantra all through getting his drink, but was shaken from his trance when he tried to pay and Natasha held up her hand with a smile, “no, Tony, you don’t pay tonight.”

Tony was puzzled but he turned around to find that most of the people in the tavern had stopped to look at him. As if on cue they raised their mugs at him, some of them nodding, before activity resumed once more and it was like Tony had imagined that entire thing had happened. He turned back to Natasha with a raised brow but she just shrugged and moved away down the bar.

He went to plop down at the table Steve and Bucky were at, “I don’t suppose you want to tell me what that was about?”

Bucky grinned as Steve looked slightly uncomfortable before answering, “the townsfolk, especially the older ones, they know what we are. We protect them and so they are in turn protective of us.”

Bucky glanced towards the bar, “Natasha may have started a rumor that a certain erstwhile hunter had helped to rescue the local faoladhs from other hunters. It was heavily implied that the posh, new Londoner in town was that erstwhile hunter. So, you’re a hero, basically.”

Tony turned bright red and grumbled into his drink, “‘m not a hero. For fuck sake.”

“That’s like calling a thief who returns something they stole a hero.” Tony drew into himself a little, clearly uncomfortable, “I just did what I should have been doing all along.”

Steve set his drink down heavy and Bucky looked over to see what he liked to call

Steve’s mulish look on his face, “look Tony, for what it’s worth, as far as Buck and I are concerned, and this town's concerned, you’ve paid your dues. We can’t help the beliefs we’re raised in,” he looked over at Bucky meaningfully, “you don’t need to answer for your family. All that matters is that you rose up out of it all. You realized what was happening and you took steps to correct it. That’s something to be proud of.”

Tony couldn’t look at either of them, “that’s what my best friend Rhodey says. I’ll work on believing all of you.”

Steve nodded and turned back to his drink and Bucky for the first time noticed a sadness in his eyes. Steve always felt things deeply, but Bucky made a note to ask him about it later.

“Sooooo,” Tony clearly wanted the attention off of him, “that comment about familial beliefs had a ring of truth to it...”

Bucky shrugged, “our pack kicked us out for wanting to bind ourselves as mates. Steve and I have been on our own for a long time.”

“Oh, well, um, that’s not exactly something the human world has warmed to either, but better I suppose,” Tony grimaced, “how long ago was that?”

“Seventy years,” Bucky laughed as Tony snorted into his beer.

He looked up at both Bucky and Steve then, his expression humorous, “wow, so, you’re both _ancient_ ,” but there was something behind his eyes that Bucky couldn’t place, “Steve said you’d been keeping him together for a long time. I didn’t realize just how long.”

Bucky was trying to figure out what Steve thought was so interesting in his cup because he was now staring a hole through it, “yeah, this guys a mess without me,” Bucky said.

Tony’s eyes flickered to Steve for the briefest of moments, “I don’t think that’s exactly true now is it? He did manage to get you back.”

Steve stood abruptly from the table with a vague motion at his cup before heading to get another round. Tony was now looking into his cup like it held all the answers and Bucky just shrugged. It had been a hell of a week. Fuck it, it had been a hell of a few months. They were all due a little oddness.

Bucky reached out to clink his mug against Tony’s to get his attention, “I like you Tony. And now that all this shit is behind us I’m hoping you and Steve and I can spend more time together. People in this town are great, but they don’t make great companions. Other than Natasha, Steve and I don’t have many friends. I’d like to count you among them.”

Tony seemed to consider what he was saying for a minute before he smiled, bright and genuine, “well, I could use some drinking buddies. I left all mine behind in London.”

The rest of the evening passed in companionship. Steve had been right all-around; Tony and Bucky get on only too well. Tony liked that Bucky could and would match him in outlandish drinking games, told the best stories, and only laughed cavalierly when Natasha stabbed a knife down into the wood of the table between his splayed fingers like it was a game they played. Steve assured Tony it was in fact a game they played often. Tony was starting to really like this town.

 

 

A few days later Tony was woken at nearly dawn to the sound of chicken murder and he hauled himself half-naked out of bed and flung open the backdoor to the sight of a huge white wolf with its front end stuck in his chicken coop.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and yelled, “you have got to be fucking kidding me?!”

When the wolf didn’t even twitch at Tony’s voice he fired a shot into the air and the wolf jumped backwards out of the coop, spinning to face Tony across the yard with a growl. When the wolf opened its muzzle to make a noise, feathers fell out. Tony heaved a sigh.

The wolf sniffed the air and seemed to relax a little, almost as if coming back to itself. It looked back to the chicken coop and then to Tony a few times before doing what Tony would swear is the wolf version of a shrug. Just as Tony was about to go back to sleep – fuck the chickens, and Bucky, and this entire shit – he heard Steve’s voice shouting, “don’t hurt him!”

The lantern Tony kept by the back door for these exact instances only poorly illuminated part of the yard. Out of the darkness Steve came sprinting into view, practically throwing himself between Bucky and Tony, breeches on but hardly done up, barefoot, and panting.

“Are you serious? You thought I was going to shoot him? After everything?”

Steve looked at the gun in Tony’s hand, “I heard a shot.”

Tony scoffed, “yeah, because unlike you who runs at the sound of the door opening, this bloody bastard was snout deep in my hens even after I opened the door and yelled at him.”

Steve frowned, “he’s stress prowling.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m stress hunting.” Tony cocked the pistol again just to get a rise out of the white wolf, which growled low but dropped its front end down with its back end up and its tail swishing back and forth.

Steve rolled his eyes so deeply that it looked painful before he spoke to the wolf, “and _you_ , this is not funny. We are not _playing_. You ate Tony’s chickens!”

Tony un-cocked the pistol and puts it aside rubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, “it’s fine Steve. It’s… really, it’s fine. Chickens can be replaced. Right?”

Steve smiled, warm and a little crooked and a lot grateful, “right. And they will be. Replaced. _Right_?” he directed the question to the wolf who just huffed and turned towards the woods, going to the edge of the tree line and sitting like he was waiting for Steve to join him.

Steve sighed before rolling his shoulders and as Tony watched his form shifted and flows until a large black wolf is sitting in a pile of pants. Tony raised an eyebrow as Steve trotted over to him instead of directly to Bucky. Tony had of course seen him shift before, but he’d never touched Steve much in wolf form.

But Steve pushed his massive, furry head against Tony’s hand and so Tony tentatively scratched behind his ears. That earned him a wag of the tail and suddenly Steve is flopping over to the side, going belly-up in front of Tony and wiggling. Tony’s mouth dropped open and when he looked up the white wolf is wearing a similar expression almost as if Bucky is saying, _for fucks sake, Steve_.

Tony laughed, but crouched down to scratch Steve’s belly and try very hard not to consider human Steve’s stomach and what it looks like. He mainly succeeded. Finally he stood back up and gestured to the woods, “go on. It’s late. I’m going back to sleep. You fucking nocturnal bastards.”

Steve righted himself, jumping up with a yipping noise and darting towards Bucky. Tony watched as the wolves disappear into the forest and he gathered up the breeches from the yard, folding them and placing them on the back steps before heading back to bed.

  

 

“They are heart sick,” Natasha spoke but did not look at Bucky; she continued to wipe the glasses down. But Bucky knew whom she was speaking of without even have to ask.

Bucky looked over to Steve and Tony standing by the bar looking for the entire world like two gentlemen exchanging pleasantries. But, they both seemed to be standing further apart then the atmosphere of the bar called for, they’re having to strain to hear each other which wouldn’t be a problem if they moved closer.

Bucky watched as Steve’s hand flexed at his side, almost as if he was fighting a reflex to reach out. Tony had a death grip on his pint, holding it between himself and Steve like a shield. They both kept glancing away, even as they speak to one another, trying not to look into the each other’s eyes for too long.

There is camaraderie there, friendship, a weird close bond that comes from being thrown into something terrible together and coming out the other side. Bucky feels it too, this strange pull to Tony who had seen Bucky at his worst, had literally seen Bucky and Steve through their worst. Bucky hadn’t been joking about the pack thing; Tony was pack.

But Natasha was right, there was something hesitant to Steve and Tony’s interactions, something fragile. It both confused Bucky and made him uncomfortable, inexplicably sad for reasons he can’t put into words.

Bucky is knocked from his blatant staring by Natasha who has leaned over the bar so that she can speak to Bucky without being overheard, “you have what we Romany call a double soul. One part of you is man. One part of you is wolf. This could pull you in two different directions if the man and the wolf were at odds, no?”

She looks pointedly down the bar and back to Bucky, “but if the man and the wolf are balanced, in harmony, then there is an understanding. The soul can be split, but equal, divided, but whole.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes as he took a sip of drink, “what are you getting at Gypsy?”

Natasha smiled because Bucky was the only person allowed to call her that and get to keep all of his fingers, she tapped her chest, “it is that way with the heart sometimes.”

 

 

Bucky let Natasha’s words settle in his mind over the next few days. He was sitting at the desk in the study going through matters that had been put aside while he was gone and Steve was working to find him. Steve was out in the barn working on some new chairs for the tavern, there had been a small brawl earlier in the week due to a wedding party getting out of hand.

Bucky was searching for their ledger book that they used for household expenses and so he opened the top drawer of the desk to find a sea of haphazardly stacked, tri-folded pages. He picked one up, unfolded it and saw the _Dear Bucky_ at the top. He put it down on the desktop and picked up another one. One by one he retrieved letters written to him, all by Steve, all dated over the last few months.

Bucky carefully arranged them by date, oldest to newest, pointedly not reading them. He stared at the stack and took a deep breath before picking the first one up and letting his eyes follow the familiar handwriting over the page.

Bucky was still sitting at the desk, the last letter gripped in his hand, when Steve came in for the evening. He found Bucky there, the letters spread out around him and he can hear the air leave Steve’s lungs. Bucky dropped the letter he was holding to the desk and turned in the chair as Steve approached him, dropping to his knees in front of Bucky, his head bowed, hands resting on his thighs.

Steve was trembling and he opened his mouth to speak a few times, but nothing would come out. Bucky reached out, running his fingers through Steve’s hair and down to rest on the side of Steve’s neck.

When he finally speaks Bucky is proud that his voice is calm, “Was it physical?”

Steve swallowed hard and he still wouldn’t look at Bucky, “just once and just a kiss. I kissed him. I was… I wasn’t myself and he kindly pointed out to me that grief and fear and guilt make us do things we regret.”

Steve felt Bucky’s fingers; firm on his chin, lifting his head to meet Bucky’s storm grey eyes, “did you regret it?”

Steve took a shuddering breath, “of course I regretted it.”

Bucky smiled at him, letting go of Steve’s chin to pick the last letter back up before asking, “do you still regret it?”

“I…” Steve’s lips were on the edge of forming a denial, but he stopped. There would be no lies between them, they had made that promise long ago and Steve had already broken it once by omission, “I don’t know, Buck.”

Steve swallowed past the lump in his throat, “if it means I lose you, then I regret it a thousand times over.”

It was the fear and the guilt and the self-recrimination he saw in Steve’s eyes that made the ultimate decision for Bucky, though he’d mainly had his mind made up by the last letter, “you aren’t ever gonna lose me.”

Steve’s hands were reaching out, curling around Bucky’s wrists, “I did lose you. I just got you back, Buck.”

“That’s different. I meant that I’m not ever walking away from you. End of the line, remember?”

Steve nodded, “always. You and me.”

Bucky nodded back, “but it can’t go on like this.”

Steve, bless him, nods resolutely, “of course, Buck. I know. I’ll… I just, we don’t ever have to see Tony again… we can… can go away.”

“What? No. That’s not…” Bucky shook his head, “that’s not how I meant it you bloody idiot.”

Bucky put the letter down and turned back to Steve, taking Steve’s hands in his, “Tony saved my life. He did right by us. _He’s pack now._ We’re not fucking never speaking to him again.”

“I meant…” Bucky squeezed Steve’s hands, “I meant that you and he doing this dance, and you being sad, can’t go on. You’re heartsick Steve. I see it. Natasha sees it. And Tony’s just as bad.”

Steve just looked confused, “I don’t understand where you’re going with this, Buck.”

“That’s because I’m absolutely bloody awful at explaining myself,” Bucky sighed and Steve waited patiently for Bucky to continue, “what if you could have Tony without losing me?”

Steve still looked confused and so Bucky said again, “he’s _pack_ now.”

A dawning look of realization suffused Steve’s face, “you mean…”

Bucky rubbed circles into the back of Steve’s hands with his thumbs, “I mean… when you think about Tony, what do you think about?”

Steve hesitated, so Bucky added, “it’s not a trick. I want to know.”

“I think about how selfless he is and how kind and funny and smart. I think about the way he laughs and the way he fights. I think about the way he wields a gun,” Steve smiled a little and Bucky smiled back.

Bucky laughed, “of course you love the way he handles a gun. You always were special, Steve.”

Steve smiled self-deprecatingly and shrugged, so Bucky asked, “and when you think about me?”

Steve grinned then, “I think about the first time I managed to pin you while we were playing and instead of being mad you licked me on the muzzle. I think about the way your hair falls into your eyes when you read. I think about how quick you are to defend people, to defend me. I think about how much I love you and how lost I would be without you.” 

Bucky took his hands out of Steve’s so that he could place them on either side of Steve’s face to look into his eyes, “when you think about how funny Tony is, does it make you forget how much you like my protectiveness?”

Steve shook his head and Bucky nodded, “of course not. And when you think about what you feel for Tony does it make you love me any less?”

“Of course not!” Steve put his big, warm hands on Bucky’s thighs and squeezed.

Bucky grinned, “see? Now wasn’t that easy? You should have told me all of this sooner. If you loved Tony now instead of me, that would be problematic. But, the feelings you have for Tony exist beside the feelings you have for me, and we can work with that.”

Steve looked doubtful that Bucky wasn’t taking this harder and so he continued, “Steve, 70 years we’ve been together, known each other longer, and for the first time ever you’re interested in someone else.”

Bucky leaned down to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose, “I know what kind of man you are, Steven Grant Rogers. I trust your heart. You’ve never run out on me and I know you’re not about to start. So, if you see something in Tony that merits attention, and I think I’m starting to see it too, then that’s something worth exploring _together_ , not shutting away in a drawer somewhere and hoping it will go away.”

Steve surged up, pressing his lips to Bucky’s before pulling back and whispering, “I don’t deserve you.”

Bucky smiled, open and sweet, “I don’t know, I think maybe we deserve each other.”

Bucky reeled Steve back in for another kiss, this one longer and slower and with more intent than any of the kisses they’ve shared since Bucky has been back. Steve had been insistent that Bucky heal fully before they were intimate again. Bucky had been ready about a week ago. He wanted Steve _now_.

Bucky thrust his tongue into Steve’s mouth as he clutched the back of his neck. He was panting and there was a growl rolling up from his throat when he pulled away to press his cheek to Steve’s and whisper in his ear, “we should go to bed. I want you spread out under me.”

Steve moaned and stood, pulling Bucky along with him as he practically sprinted for the stairs and the bedroom. Bucky intended to make him work for it though. He let Steve lay him out on the bed, clothes flying off into corners of the room. But when he moved to pull Steve on top of him his mate hesitated.

“I don’t want to crowd you, Buck. I don’t want you to feel like…,” Steve’s voice wavered.

Bucky arched as Steve’s hands skimmed up his sides, across his chest, to his shoulders and back down as Steve searched for words, “we can wait or take it slow…”

Bucky shook his head, gripping Steve and pulling him down onto his body so that they were pressed flush together from head to toe. Steve groaned as Bucky nipped at his earlobe, “Nothing we do in this bed will remind me of what happened.”

Bucky kissed the side of Steve’s neck, “There are things that might, and we can’t pretend that what I went through didn’t affect me,” Bucky pressed his lips to Steve’s temple, “and I won’t always want to talk about it…”

He felt Steve’s sigh as he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, “but this space is sacred. This space remains ours alone.”

Steve kissed him then, pressing his mouth firmly to Bucky’s and Bucky smiled into it before saying, “They can’t take this from us.”

Bucky’s words were like gentle rain falling on Steve’s dry soul, he soaked them all in, trusting Bucky to know himself. He took a deep breath and began the task of relearning Bucky’s body. He skimmed his lips along hot skin. He delved his tongue into the hollows and creases the made Bucky moan. He reacquainted himself with the soft spots he could press his teeth into to make his mate squirm and beg.

Steve thrilled in the fingers that found those places on his own body, that searched and coaxed sounds from Steve’s own mouth. Steve’s breath caught as Bucky pinched one of his nipples. He laughed when gentle nails glided down his ribcage and tickled his sides. Steve was achingly hard by the time Bucky rose up, rolling them and pushing Steve to the bed, pining his arms to the pillows on either side of his head.

“I said I wanted you under me,” Bucky smirked playfully.

Steve thrust his hips up with a cocky, “whatever you want.”

Steve’s smugness didn’t last long in the face of Bucky’s plan, which was to slowly and showily prepare himself while making Steve watch but not touch. It took all Steve’s considerable will power to keep his hands pressed to the pillows where Bucky had left them, but he’d been telling the truth when he said he’d give Bucky whatever he wanted.

For the first two fingers Steve watched Bucky’s hand disappear between his legs, lifted up on his knees, straddling Steve’s hips. But, when Bucky added the third finger Steve’s eyes were glued to his face. The way he bit his lip; the soft exhalations of breath that caused his hair to stir where it rested against his cheek.

With a final directive not to move, Bucky sunk down onto Steve until their bodies met. Then he leaned over, his hands gripping Steve’s wrists on either side of his head, holding him down to the bed with his body. Bucky smiled, his grey eyes looking into Steve’s blue ones as he leaned down and kissed him deeply, breathing out into Steve’s mouth as if to push the very essence of his life into Steve.

While their tongues still tangled, Bucky lifted up a little and slid back down. The growl Steve gave vibrated through Bucky’s chest and he pulled away from the kiss to growl back, setting-up a rhythm. Steve’s hips pushed up off the bed to meet Bucky’s downward thrusts, trying to find the right angle even as he submitted to Bucky’s hold on him. They found it quickly, Bucky crying out and arching his back, shoving his hips down onto Steve’s to try and prolong the feeling.

Steve tried to pick up the pace after that, but Bucky had other ideas. He rolled his hips in a languid motion, squeezing Steve’s wrist when he tried to go too fast. The slow pace built the tension in a way that quick and dirty couldn’t. Bucky needed it slow right now. He could feel his release moving up his spine, but he wasn’t in a rush.

When he finally did finish it caught him by surprise, his shout softer somehow in his shock at how good it was. He continued to move on top of Steve through his orgasm. Steve looked wrecked underneath him, having clearly held off his own finish by force of will. He was thrusting up into Bucky now, his head thrown back, panting and pulling a little at Bucky’s hold finally.

Bucky held Steve’s wrists fast though, bending towards him to press his teeth firmly over Steve’s throat. And just like Bucky knew he would, Steve came apart under him and in him and Bucky thrilled at the feeling. Something primal in Bucky settled now that Steve had re-marked him as his, their bodies and scents mingling in a way they hadn’t done since before Bucky had been taken.

It was a contentment that went bone deep in both of them even as they pulled apart, even as they cleaned up and kissed goodnight, even as they curled around one another to sleep. The sense of two becoming one again stayed with them, settled into the very fiber of their beings where it belonged. 

Steve was heavy where parts of him settled almost on top of Bucky. Before Bucky had been taken they had often slept apart. They both ran hot, all wolves did, and especially in warmer months it made sleeping pressed together uncomfortable. But since Bucky’s return Steve had taken to sleeping practically on top of Bucky as if to reassure himself that Bucky wasn’t going anywhere. And Bucky would melt into a puddle, would burn in the heat of their bodies, if it meant reminding Steve that they had found their way back to one another again.

Before he drifted off Bucky said through a yawn, “tomorrow evening, we’ll go talk to Tony.”

He felt Steve’s body tense and relax, soft kisses being peppered up and down the back of Bucky’s neck. He felt Steve’s lips curve into a smile against Bucky’s skin almost as if he couldn’t help himself and the last little lingering doubt was wiped away. Anything that made Steve this happy, and therefore Bucky happy, couldn’t be bad. They’d figure it out.

 

 

When Tony answered the door, the back door ̶ _what was it with werewolves and front doors_ ̶ it was to Bucky leaning casually against the door jam with an unreadable expression. 

Tony’s eyes swept the yard until he noticed Steve standing towards the back by the chicken coop glancing up at the door and then back down to the ground. The setting sunlight gave his golden hair a rich, bright orange glow that made Tony’s breath catch.

Steve looked nervous but he also looked happier and more relaxed than Tony had ever seen him. Was this Steve as he was supposed to be, with Bucky healthy and safe by his side? It made Tony joyful and achy in a way that a bottle of scotch could maybe fix. _Maybe_.

Tony looked questioningly at Bucky regarding Steve’s aft position, “I told him to stay put while I spoke to you.”

Tony’s confused expression deepened into a frown and as the gears in his head turned he realized that this visit could only mean one thing, “you know.”

Bucky nodded and his voice as he spoke though not angry was rough, “Were you ever going to say anything to me?”

Tony was quiet for a long moment until he finally said, “If having Steve’s attention on me for even a second meant casting a shadow on a lifetime of love between the two of you then there was no way in hell I wanted any part of it. And Steve’s a better man than that even if I did. You can’t always help what you feel, but you can help how you act. There was nothing _to_ say.”

“I wish you had both just told me. I think Steve was hoping I’d figure it out. It pains him to keep things from me and he wears guilt like a physical weight around his neck. Took me about a week, a conversation with Natasha, and some letters to figure out that all that weight he was carrying wasn’t just left over from what happened to me.”

“Letters?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “yes, apparently Steve wrote to me the entire time I was... _away_. He kept them. I found them. The big idiot didn’t exactly hide them.”

“And I was in these letters?” Tony’s voice sounded reedy.

Bucky’s eyebrows came together, “that surprises you?”

Tony nodded absently before seeming to collect himself. “Are you here to kill me? Because honestly, at this point, I’ll just ask that you make it quick.”

There was a sharp whine from behind them and Steve looked fit to be tied but he stayed where Bucky had left him, on the other side of the yard. 

Bucky ran a hand through his hair looking incredulous, “bloody hell you two are pieces of work. It’s a miracle you managed to save me with your heads so far up your own asses. No, I’m not here to _kill_ you.”

“Excuse me?” Tony just seemed confused now.

Bucky gestured towards the door, “can I come in so we can talk?”

“I suppose so.” Tony’s voice had taken on a dramatic flare but Bucky could see the line of tension in his shoulders.

They stood in the kitchen, which Tony spent more time in than he ever had when he’d lived in London. Part of leaving his old life behind was not having live-in servants and that had been an adjustment. Most days he could make tea and make small, serviceable meals out of whatever his weekly housekeeper cooked and left for him. He ate at the tavern a lot.

The kitchen had a sturdy prep table that Tony ate at more often than not when he ate at home, no sense sitting in the formal dining room by himself. Instead of taking a seat they simply stood on either side of it, like generals drawing up battle plans.

“Tea?” Tony thought it polite to ask. Bucky just shook his head.

Bucky took a deep breath and opened his mouth; but Tony didn’t see it because he was looking down and away, his voice strained when he said, “I’m not sure what you want from me. Why do you want to talk? To get my side of the story? Steve kissed me. He was emotional. He regretted it. I told him we’d never speak of it again. I understood. We saved you. Now we’re friends. End of story.”

Bucky’s gaze was hot on Tony, who could feel it like the burning sun, “did you regret it?”

Tony’s head snapped-up from where he had been staring a hole in the table, “what?”

“You said that Steve regretted it. Did _you_ regret it?”

Tony’s mouth was a straight line, his throat working as he scowled at Bucky before he said thickly, “no,” his eyes were fire, daring, as if he thought Bucky still might kill him and he was just waiting for it, “I don’t regret it. Not even a little bit. I regret what it did to Steve. He was devastated.”

Bucky’s lips twisted into a rueful smile and he laughed, a sort of barking sound that seemed to startle even him, “God, look at you, still trying to make sure we find our way to each other again. You’re ready for me to kill you because Steve kissed you. _He kissed you_. But you’ll lay on the sword if it means I don’t blame him for it.”

Tony raised his voice a little, not liking Bucky’s patronizing tone in the least, “if you think I have some sacrificial lamb complex you’re dead fucking wrong,” his voice dropped into a hushed whisper, “but I’ll be damned if I’m the reason for good peoples’ lives going bad. I’ve had enough of _that_.”

Tony was suddenly very tired, “I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to promise never to look at Steve again? To never speak to him? You want me to leave town? Fine. I’ll do it. I can go fuck off and die in some other God-forsaken village as easy as I can in this one.”

Bucky sighed, “no, Tony, that’s not what I want.”

They stood staring at one another before Bucky spoke again into the silence, “Steve and I have been together for 70 years and we’ve known each other longer. In all that time there’s never been another for me but him. And I know there’s never been another for him but me.”

Bucky looked up, his grey eyes gleaming in the hearth light, “until you.”

“I know that must…” Tony’s voice trailed off before picking back up, “…I know wolves are territorial by nature.”

Bucky smiled unexpectedly, “it makes me curious.”

Tony startled, “curious?!”

Bucky just grinned more, “you’re right that wolves are territorial. Steve is mine. He will always be mine. But, for some reason he wants you to be his. That makes me curious. What is it about you?”

Bucky’s gaze raked up and down Tony, “and, I have to admit, I’m starting to see it.”

Tony’s cheeks started to heat up and it was an uncomfortable feeling for a man normally used to making others blush.

Bucky leaned across the table, his hands splayed out on the wood, “I’ll tell you what I told Steve. I wish you had come to me. I think Steve got it in his head that caring about you, wanting you, was a betrayal.”

“But I only consider it a betrayal if he doesn’t love me anymore, if he doesn’t care about me anymore, if in wanting you he no longer wants me. And that’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky’s voice was a low murmur now, mesmerizing Tony who was more and more convinced he was having a fever dream with each word that escaped Bucky’s mouth.

“Steve and I have been a 2-wolf pack for a long time, we come as a set. And I told you… do you remember? When you killed Stone? I told you that if you spill blood for the pack, you’re pack.”

Tony shuddered, remembering Steve’s warm tongue on his skin lapping at the red droplets, and he licked his lips subconsciously and watched as Bucky’s eyes tracked the movement before they captured Tony’s gaze again.

Tony considered his next words carefully, “it is, an honor, to be considered a member of your pack.” 

Bucky nodded as if conceding the point and then waited.

Tony took a deep breath and steeled himself, “so, if Steve belongs to you… and I allow that I could belong to Steve… then…”

Bucky’s answering flash of teeth was predatory, “then you also belong to me.”

Tony huffed, “but could we maybe find another word that isn’t _belong_?”

Bucky shook his head, “no, because then I can’t say that I also _belong_ to Steve. Or that I’d like to see if maybe I could _belong_ to you.”

Tony’s cheeks were red again for a different reason as he swayed forward slightly to where Bucky was still leaned over part of the table, “oh, well, that does sound… interesting.”

“I won’t force you into anything but I’d like you to consider what the 3 of us could be together.”

Breathlessly Tony repeated, “the 3 of us?”

Tony had a moment to think, _well, in for a penny and all that_ , before he leaned the rest of the way over the table and pressed his lips to Bucky. And, oh, if kissing Steve had been like waking-up, then kissing Bucky was like falling asleep.

Tony felt like everything in his center was being dragged down into a gentle darkness he wanted to tumble into. Bucky’s surprised huff of breath pushed into Tony’s mouth. Their lips slid together as their tongues touched and then Bucky was pulling away to bite at Tony’s lower lip.

A heavy hand was suddenly on the back of Tony’s neck urging him forward and abruptly he was up and on the table, crawling over it like he couldn’t get to the other side fast enough. He rose-up on his knees so that Bucky had to tilt his head up to kiss him and from this angle Tony could control the kiss. He delved his tongue back into Bucky’s mouth as their lips came together again, wanting to explore every part of this man, this faoladh, who was so freely offering something to Tony that Tony had thought only seconds ago cost more than he was willing to pay.

Bucky’s strong arms were around Tony, lifting, and Tony’s legs went around his waist. Tony’s gut throbbed with a heretofore unknown thrill at knowing that these two men had a strength that made it easy for them to lift Tony like he was some debutante. The world tilted and Tony felt the wood of the table meet his clothed back as he was gently laid down on it.

Bucky dragged his mouth off Tony’s and nipped and sucked his way down Tony’s jawline to his ear and neck, biting down gently on the delicate skin of his neck and making a suspicious rumbling sound in his chest when Tony moaned and arched under him.

Bucky waited until Tony was looking at him, then he looked pointedly at the door and back before he said, “you should scream.”

It took Tony a moment to remember the words he spoke to Bucky while he worked to liberate him from the tabletop he was chained to. But then the moment rushed back in to his brain. He expected to be horrified, but instead Tony laughed as Bucky grinned mischievously and then he laughed again because, _Christ_ , they _could_ laugh about it – that awful moment and that awful place and the awful time leading up to it. And in laughing about it there was relief from the burden of it.

Tony bit his lip thinking of Steve still outside, with enhanced werewolf hearing that had no doubt heard every second of their exchange. Tony brought a hand up to card it through Bucky’s hair, because he could, as he whispered against Bucky’s lips, “are you trying to punish him?”

Bucky shook his head, “love is not something to be punished." 

He leaned over and sunk his teeth into Tony’s neck again, a little harder this time and Tony couldn’t help but gasp, before Bucky pulled back and said, “ _but_ , am I trying to rile him up just a little for the aggressive moping he’s made me deal with lately? Absolutely. 

Tony laughed and pushed at Bucky’s shoulders, “well, that’s enough of that for right now. Let’s go fix this _aggressive moping_.” 

“You’re gonna have to let me go, darling,” Tony frowned at Bucky for the second it took him to figure out that his legs were still locked around Bucky’s waist.

Tony rolled his eyes to cover his embarrassment dropping his legs down and standing up, as Bucky stood and said, “don’t worry, there will be plenty of time later for you to wrap them back around me." 

Tony laughed trying to find his footing again, it was pathetic to think that once he had been known as a notorious flirt amongst the ton of London and two werewolves had reduced him to a blushing virgin, _get it together Stark_ , he thought, “I look forward to it.”

Bucky simply raised one eyebrow and opened his mouth to retort when a keening whine sounded from outside. Bucky just snapped his mouth shut and rolled his eyes, walking to the back door and throwing it open. Tony moved to the doorway as well. Standing and looking at Steve in what was left of the twilight and knowing surely his heart must be in his eyes. It was at least in his throat.

Bucky smiled, his own eyes sparkling with warmth as he gestured towards Steve still standing where Bucky had left him, “Go. Go on. Go to him.”

Tony took off across the yard, running the relatively short distance that separated them and then just jumping in to the open air separating he and Steve, trusting Steve to catch him. The blonde couldn’t contain the happy laugh that bubbled up in him as he snatched Tony from the air, taking the force of Tony’s body barreling into his and rolling them to the ground. 

The commotion startled an indignant squawk from the hens, which made Bucky laugh, but Tony was lost in the smell and strength of Steve as they landed in a heap with Steve on top, his hands cradling Tony’s body from their fall. Steve’s lips crashed down on his as Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck.

He gave himself over to the movement of their tongues, the clash of teeth, how Steve shivered when Tony traced the shell of his ear with his fingers. This kiss, like the last one, tasted of Steve’s salty tears but it also tasted like hope. It felt like a promise, like all the walls between them were crumbling down. It was everything Tony had ever wanted. 

  

 

They started spending even more time at the tavern together, more joyful in each other’s company now that there were no secrets.

Tony had taken to spinning his knife in one hand, deftly manipulating the blade as it flashed in the candlelight. The entire town knew who he was anyway it seemed, an open secret like the rest. To any other eye in the place he was just a show off with fancy knife skills, like Natasha, but Bucky saw the way Steve’s eyes gleamed and the slight uptick in Tony’s smile when Steve’s breath would catch.

“You’re a lunatic Rogers,” Bucky finally gave in and ribbed him one evening, “you’re panting and all he’s done is spin a knife.”

Steve turned bright red and drank his beer to cover his embarrassment and Bucky laughed. But then Tony smirked, spinning the knife down and slamming it in to the table between Bucky’s finger and thumb.

Bucky let out a breath like he’d been punched, his laugh abruptly cut off and he swallowed twice before saying, “well, Steve does have a point. It’s hotter when you do that than when Natasha does it.”

Tony laughed, “You’re _both_ lunatics. I could kill you with my skills. That shouldn’t turn you on.”

Bucky’s eyes were glowing when he rumbled, “you could also defend us with your skills. That’s infinitely more attractive.”

The eye contact that followed was intense and Tony’s entire body tightened before he forced himself to relax back into the moment. They hadn’t progressed much beyond heavy kissing since deciding to give the 3 of them a try. Steve and Bucky would walk Tony home from the tavern, around to the back door, kiss him within an inch of his life in turn, and then head home.

Tony was beyond sexually frustrated. He could have bedded half of London in the time it was taking these two werewolves to make a move. But then, Tony reminded himself, like he had every night for the last week, that he liked these two men more than he’d ever liked _all_ of London. So, he would wait. Tonight. Every night. As long as they needed.

Tonight he especially needed to take the edge off though, so upon returning home Tony decided it seemed like a good night for a bath. Hauling hot buckets of water up the stairs and into the bedroom and adjoining bathroom was beyond annoying, but it was worth it to sink into the large porcelain tub and just relax. And his bath did drain, it just wouldn’t fill-up without some work. Tony had been lucky to even find what little conveniences he had. The country was still very behind the major cities in many ways.

At his house in London, the family home, there had been hot and cold running water, electricity, and the most modern of conveniences. His father had spared no expense in updating the house with the very best.

His modest house in the Irish countryside had no electricity and only a cold-water tap in the kitchen. Much like going without live-in servants, Tony was making do. He was finding though, as the months wore on, that this more simplistic life he had carved out for himself made him strangely happier than all of the richness and convenience of London. He had been lonely there, especially after the death of his parents. Tony wasn’t lonely anymore though.

He was just starting to slip the soap around the curves of his body under the hot water when he heard a faint knock on the back door. Well, if it was someone coming to kill him they wouldn’t be knocking, so there was that. It could honestly only be one person… or persons. Even from his bedroom upstairs Tony just said, “ _come in,”_ in a regular voice knowing that the person at the back door would be able to hear even a whisper.

The back door opened and closed and Tony continued his cleaning routine as he heard steps coming up the stairs. Steve stopped at the doorway to the bedroom and when he didn’t see Tony he continued across to the doorway to the bathroom, his eyes widening to find Tony in the bath, but other than that nothing about his demeanor betrayed his surprise. He leaned up against the doorframe and continued to look insufferably handsome in Tony’s opinion.

“I have to admit, I imagined finding you a lot of ways, but this one never occurred to me,” Steve admitted.

Tony knew that Steve couldn’t see into the bath from his position by the door and the way Tony was sitting in the tub, but the hot look Steve was sending him made Tony’s skin hotter than the water had.

“Would you like to join me?” Tony offered.

Steve looked dubious, “you want me to get in the bath with you?”

“I’m not saying it won’t be a tight fit,” he winked at Steve, “but we can make it work.”

Steve groaned and stepped further into the room then, already moving to strip his clothes off. Tony scooted forward in the tub and turned to look as all of Steve was revealed to him. He groaned once Steve was naked and standing in front of him, all of that golden skin and rippling muscle on display. 

“You’ve seen me naked before,” Steve said, confused by the startled hungry look on Tony’s face.

“Yes, but not in a situation where I could really _look_ ,” Tony bit his lip, “and fuck you’re gorgeous.” 

Steve rolled his eyes to cover his slight flush at how much Tony obviously wanted him. He moved forward to climb into the bathtub behind Tony. It _was_ a tight fit, but Steve managed to sink down into the water and get his legs on either side of Tony, who moved back into Steve until his back was pressed to Steve’s front. They managed it with minimal splashing too, though the water level rose alarmingly. 

Steve groaned at how good the hot water felt and how intimately he and Tony were pressed together. He kept his hands gripped on either side of the tub for a few minutes as they just adjusted to being pressed together, no clothing between them as a barrier. 

Tony spoke first, “where’s Bucky?” 

Steve kept his voice low, “he’s probably asleep now that I’m not there to keep him up tossing and turning.” 

Steve chuckled, “he threw a pillow at me and said something about making you mine before I drove him out of his mind.” 

Tony shivered, but laughed, “He does know how to get a point across.”

Tony moved to trail his fingers up and over Steve’s hands and arms where they rested on the sides of the bath, the water droplets leaving hot then rapidly cooling wet trails on Steve’s skin, “you can touch me, you know,” he murmured. 

Steve’s hands moved to dip below the surface of the water, finding Tony’s thighs and trailing up, ignoring the one place he’d very much like to touch, before skimming up and over Tony’s hips and stomach and chest. Steve’s left hand stilled for a moment as he felt the knot of scars on Tony’s left side.

“Was this where Stane’s bullet went through?” Tony’s surprised Steve remembered. 

“Yes,” Tony managed to get out coherently before Steve thumbed his nipples and his head tilted back onto Steve’s shoulder with a groan. Lips trailed up the side of his neck and a tongue traced the intricate whorls of his ear making Tony jerk in Steve’s hold on him and moan.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Tony whispered, “but I thought that once we got to this point that it would be the 3 of us.”

Steve nipped at the thin skin underneath Tony’s jaw before answering, “it will be the 3 of us soon, but, I think Bucky wanted us to have this moment first, where it’s just you and me, getting to learn one another. Since this started with me and you.”

Tony couldn’t help but smile at that, turning his head so that they could kiss. It was gentle at first, like all of their touches had been to this point. Tony happily gave over control to Steve, letting him set the pace of slow and sweet. Tony’s body was betraying him however.

Since moving from London, Tony’s sexual exploits had been a solo endeavor. He had expected this new life path to be one of intermittent celibacy, much more so than in London at least. But, honestly, there hadn’t been a lot of room for desire in the new mental space of his existence since the night Stane had shot him. That’s why it had been so nice to feel something so acutely for Steve, both passion and a dawning thing Tony could only assume was love.

But it had been a long time since someone else’s hands had been on him like this, skin to skin. Steve’s kisses were lazy, but Tony’s body was hungry. Without conscious thought he tilted his hips backward towards the hardness that he could feel pressing into his back. It made Steve’s hands on him tighten, his kiss deepen, and Tony reached around to grip at Steve’s hair.

Before Tony could think about how to move things along he felt Steve’s hand wrap around his cock. Tony squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to focus on kissing Steve with abandon now, anything to get his mind off the perfect, rough slide of Steve’s hand so that Tony could at least last long enough not to hurt his pride.

Steve gave a rough twist at the top and Tony had to break the kiss to breathe and moan. He tilted his head back onto Steve’s shoulder, his hips moving restlessly now, trying to rut up into Steve’s hand.

Steve’s other hand was wondering, first across Tony’s chest, then down his abs and back up again. He teeth set into Tony’s neck, then shoulder, and nipped at his earlobe. It was sensory overload and Tony came with a cry, his body tightening and then relaxing into Steve who whispered things into Tony’s ear that made him blush.

“God, you’re gorgeous. I can’t wait to see what you look like spread out beneath me,” Steve’s voice held a growling tone to it that went straight down to Tony’s cock despite that fact that he was doubtful he could come again anytime soon.

Tony moved reluctantly away from Steve to get out of the tub, “in that case, let’s move somewhere we’ve got more room.”

The water was cooling finally, but the low fire had warmed the room and gave it enough light that Tony hadn’t bothered lighting any of the other lanterns or candles. Tony took the towel he had waiting for himself and barely skimmed it over his body, rubbing at his hair with it before handing it to Steve, as he too got out of the bath.

Tony made his way to bed with the sure knowledge that Steve was following behind him. Tony climbed into bed after pulling the covers down and reaching for the bedside table drawer for the bottle of scented oil he kept there. He felt the bed move behind him and Steve was suddenly pressed up against his back, lips kissing softly between Tony’s shoulder blades. Tony left the oil on top of the table and rolled onto his back. Steve moved with him till he was settled in the v of Tony’s legs and they were looking at one another.

Tony reached up to trace his hands and fingers across Steve’s brow and down his cheeks and over his mouth. He got side tracked there for a minute when Steve nipped at Tony’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it before letting go.

Tony continued down over broad shoulders and powerful arms currently holding Steve still above him, “I’ve never gotten to just touch you. To explore all of the paths my eyes have taken when I shouldn’t have been looking,” Tony’s nimble fingers stroked back up Steve’s arms and then down his chest and stomach, pausing to press and rub at his nipples.

Steve sighed and pressed his hips more firmly down into Tony and that made Tony smile as he said, “some day I want to spread you out beneath me and just spend hours touching every inch of you with my hands and my mouth.

Steve dropped his head down to rest it on Tony’s sternum with a deep moan and Tony’s hands ran back up his sides to tug at Steve’s hair, forcing him to look up, “you like that idea?”

Steve surged forward, melding his mouth to Tony’s and making another pleased noise when Tony opened up for him eagerly. Steve’s arousal, and it must be unbearable by this point, was ramping Tony’s back up again. He reached out for the oil and held it out to Steve who had broken the kiss to nose down Tony’s neck.

Steve looked at the vial, “are you sure?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Tony cupped Steve’s face and looked into his eyes, “I thought you said something about me being under you. Is that not what you want?”

Steve bit at his lip, “that is what I want, but I don’t want to hurt you. You could have me, instead.”

Steve buried his face in Tony’s neck and Tony dropped the bottle for a moment to put his arms around Steve, “ _now_ you’re suddenly shy on me? Look at me,” Tony turned his head to the side automatically as Steve pressed his teeth to Tony’s neck, licking over the thin skin where Tony’s scent was strong. 

Steve did obey him eventually, lifting his head to look at Tony as the brunette ran his fingers through Steve's hair, “we can do this however you want. I like both ways. I’m very with the _you over me_ plan, yeah? And I trust you not to hurt me, anymore than I want to be hurt.”

Steve’s head tilted to the side in question even as his eyes darkened, “you would trust me to be… less than gentle?”

Tony nodded, “of course. You bite me with human teeth and you don’t do anything that can’t heal in a few days.”

Steve frowned, “of course, I’d _never_ …”

Tony pushed a finger into his lips, “I know. I’ll let you know if I don’t like something. Okay?”

Steve nodded and rolled his hips down into Tony’s reaching for the vial of oil off to the side even as he let his mouth explore more of Tony’s throat and chest, “you know, people don’t trust us,” Steve said quietly. “They appreciate what we do for them and they protect us, but they fear what we are even as they benefit from it. They can’t ever fully trust us. They see us as creatures just as capable of hurting as we are of helping.”

Tony relaxed into the sheets as Steve rose up to his knees, finally getting the oil on his hands, and settling between Tony’s legs as Tony continued the conversation, “well, you are… capable of both…”

Steve looked down at him with dark eyes, his warm hands skimming up Tony’s spread thighs, thumbs pressing in to the soft spots inside Tony’s hip bones making him moan and shift his hips, “and yet, here you are, letting me put you in a position of vulnerability, letting my body in to yours, trusting me enough to bare your neck to me,” Steve moved one hand up to press softly into Tony’s throat, his grip tightening for a moment before pulling away.

Tony shivered, his voice more breathless this time when he spoke, “you know who else is capable of both helping and hurting? Humans. My trust isn’t based on what someone is, it’s based on what they do.”

Steve leaned over him then, kissing him with a ferocity that left Tony breathless, especially once he felt Steve’s finger pressing at his entrance, slowly seeking entry. Time blurred a little as Tony let himself relax into the old, familiar feeling of being stretched. He tilted his head back, arms out to the side to grip the sheets, purposefully leaving his body as open and bare as possible from the underside of his jaw all the way down his chest and belly. His legs were relaxed and open with Steve between them, staring down at where three of his fingers were now sinking in to Tony.

Tony wrapped one leg up and around Steve’s hip, digging his heel into his ass cheek, “come on, come on…”

“So impatient,” Steve smiled, taking his fingers out and leaning over Tony to kiss him again, “can you turn over for me?”

Tony did as he was told and the second he was on his stomach, Steve’s hands were pulling his hips up till he was on his knees with his chest and shoulders pressed into the bed. He put his hands up above him to get a death grip on his pillows as he felt Steve line-up and sink very slowly into him.

Tony was fully and painfully hard again by the time Steve’s hips met his. In this position he had no stimulation on his cock and Steve had probably planned that, the bastard. Tony whined a little, shifting just to feel Steve inside of him and that earned him a moan from behind him. He felt one hand squeeze his hip and the other leave to land heavy on the back of his neck, pressing him down further into the mattress without hurting him. Tony knew instantly it was a hold he wouldn’t be able to break. His entire body tensed as he let out a whimper of lust. God, this was exactly what he wanted. What he had wanted for a long time.

Steve leaned over him, pressing his front to Tony’s back and speaking into his ear, “I’m going to hold you down and fuck you just like this and you’re going to take it,” Steve’s voice was dark, gentle, warm, heavy and Tony just sort of melted under him.

“Good,” Steve said, and was there some sort of spell Steve was weaving because Tony had never been more turned on in his life, “I do anything you don’t like and you tell me?”

Steve phrased it as a question and Tony nodded, panting out a hurried, “yes, yes, just, come on…”

Steve uncurled from around Tony’s body, his hands still firm on Tony’s hip and neck. He pulled out slowly and then slowly sunk back in. He did that again and again until Tony thought he might scream from the unhurriedness of it all. And then Steve angled just right and Tony moaned and rocked back against him.

It was like turning on a switch, Steve picked up the pace, aiming for that spot every time, thrusting with speed and power that Tony knew would leave bruises on the back of his ass and thighs. He didn’t care. He hadn’t been lying about liking it rough. He tried to shift back onto Steve, meet him thrust for thrust but Steve growled and held him tighter so that Tony could only take it. God help Tony’s messed-up mind too, because the growl sent chills up his spine, but the good kind.

Steve’s hand left his neck, moving around to touch his cock and Tony almost sobbed in relief, saying Steve’s name and a lot of curses out loud. He stayed down where Steve had left him, not bothering to try and lift his head, leaving the back of his neck vulnerable with his head bowed the way it was. Steve gave a particularly sharp thrust, his fingers twisting around the head of Tony’s cock and Tony was coming.

Mostly because he couldn’t help it, but a little to try and get to Steve, he clinched down as much as he could as Steve buried himself in Tony one last time. He shuddered, leaning over Tony again to bite into the meat of his shoulder as his hands gripped Tony’s hips to grind them back into Steve’s. Tony felt Steve coming inside him. Felt the burning ache of Steve’s teeth in his flesh. He felt used and rung-out and fucking fantastic.

He let Steve turn him; manhandle him to his back again. Watched as he retrieved the towel they had used earlier to clean them both off. Steve finally settled by his side, peppering kisses all over Tony’s face and saying things like perfect and amazing and wonderful and _trusting me_.

Tony smiled, “you were perfect. That was… we’re good together… knew we would be.”

Steve smiled and pulled Tony to his chest so they could sleep. Tony thought for a minute before he chuckled and said, “Christ, the mouth on you. First you’re demanding and then shy and then you just open your mouth and say the filthiest, most arousing things. How do you do that?”

Steve laughed, “um, practice?”

Tony sighed, his eyes already closing, “you can practice on me anytime.”

He fell asleep to the faint, happy rumbling noise Steve seemed to be making that he would definitely remember to ask about when he woke up. Could wolves purr? Tony considered it as he drifted off to sleep.

  

 

Tony woke-up feeling both well rested and pleasantly sore. Which was odd. He was also very warm despite the chill he could feel in the room. He tried to move and found that he was being firmly held against a very hot and very hard body. Steve had his arms slung across Tony’s waist and cradled against the curve of his body. Tony felt deep, measured breath across the back of his neck.

This was nice. He didn’t normally spend long enough with people he slept with to wake-up beside them lazily and just lay there, naked together. He wiggled a little to feel all the places that his body touched Steve’s. He felt a grumble and Steve did a shift of his own, tightening his arm and shifting his hips so that the part of him that was very awake from the feel of it was pushing into Tony’s back.

He felt Steve smile against the back of his neck and lips press in a line down the knobs of his spine before Steve actually spoke, “this is a pleasant way to wake-up.”

Tony laughed, “I have to agree.”

He sighed though, fingers idly stroking over the sheets in front of him, “it’s wonderful, but something feels like it’s missing, right?”

Steve rolled away from him and sat up and Tony worried for a moment that he had said something wrong as he moved to sit up as well. When his eyes met Steve’s though they were thoughtful but happy.

Steve reached over to lay his hand on the sheet covering Tony’s thigh, the bed covers had pooled around their waists and though the excitement of earlier hadn’t gone away, this moment felt more important than that suddenly.

“You mean that,” Steve said it as a statement, not a question, “you mean that it honestly feels to you like Bucky is missing because you want him here, not because you think I’ll only stay if you allow him to be here.”

“Honestly, Steve, I let you in my house for the first time because you had a nice ass,” Tony smiled and put his hand over Steve’s on his leg, “and I agreed to help you find Bucky because I needed a crusade. At first I thought the draw I had to you was simple attraction, which was nice in its own way, a reminder of who I had been before my life went up in flames.”

Tony continued, glancing at Steve out of the corner of his eye but not able to look him full on yet, “but then, you kissed me, and I _knew_ it wasn’t just attraction. I know attraction, very well, and that kiss was more than all the physical connections I’ve ever had. It was like in the short time we had spent together you rewrote an equation in me that I hadn’t been able to fix myself. And when you pulled away, and I saw your devastation and I realized what my realization meant for you, that you had broken an equation that had been perfectly balanced…”

Tony’s voice wavered a bit and he squeezed Steve’s hand, “…well, it was obvious to me that I had to convince you that it didn’t mean anything. _I tried. I don’t think I convinced myself though._ But then we rescued Bucky and he was everything you had said he was. He was more. God, he _sassed_ me… did I tell you that? I was trying to save him and he could barely stand and he called me _small and human_.”

Steve smiled, “I can imagine.”

Tony laughed, “watching the two of you reunite… I knew I had done the right thing. And then you both came back for me even though I told you not to… and Bucky called me _pack_ …” Tony trailed off, thinking for a moment. Steve stayed silent, understanding that Tony had more to say.

“And later, I got to see you both as you are, in town, at the tavern, just being, just orbiting one another. It was hard, at first, but I just, understood, you know? I realized how this werewolf I had agreed to rescue might have come to have your heart.”

“So, no, I’m not just humoring you, or Bucky for that matter,” Tony turned to stare at Steve full in the face, “and I’m glad that we had this first time together, just the two of us, but I’m serious when I say that I want him here, with us. I want to see what Bucky and I could be together… different than what you and I have, different than what you and he have. But, we’ll find our way together.”

Steve leaned in, and tentatively touched their lips together, lightly, before deepening the kiss, stroking Tony’s jaw with his knuckles, encouraging Tony to open for him so their tongues could tangle together. When he pulled back he simply said, “thank you, for reassuring me.”

“Anytime,” Tony leaned in to press another quick kiss to Steve’s lips, “but, honestly, let’s go get him, yeah?”

“Okay,” Steve smiled and got out of bed to find his clothes from last night. They got on just enough to be decent and then made their way the short distance from Tony’s to Steve and Bucky’s house, darting through backyards until they got to the backdoor. They walked into the kitchen to find Bucky making coffee.

He seemed startled to see them. Tony watched as his sharp eyes took in their disheveled clothing, their bright eyes, and the probably impressive bite marks along Tony’s neck and disappearing into his shirt collar. Steve had also been sporting striking love bites, but they’d healed, much to Tony’s chagrin.

Bucky’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, no doubt sniffing out their scents on one another. A low, rumbling purr filled the kitchen as he put the kettle down to stalk around the table to haul Steve into a rough kiss, biting at him and pressing his tongue demandingly into Steve’s mouth as the blonde just opened up and took it.

Tony had a moment to consider Steve’s impressive ability to switch from commanding in his kisses with Tony to submissive in his kisses with Bucky. Tony wondered idly how that would come into play once the three of them were all together. He got lost in the daydream for a second and was abruptly broken from it when fingers pressed into the bruises on his throat and Tony jerked and hissed.

Bucky looked unapologetic about his interest in the tender marks and leaned into Tony, pulling him in tight against Bucky’s own body so that Tony could feel his interest. Bucky kissed Tony quick and rough before moving his mouth to his ultimate destination all along, setting his teeth gently into the bite marks Steve’s teeth had left behind.

Tony whimpered at the pleasure and pain of Bucky aggravating the sore skin. Steve moved to crowd into their space, placing his body behind Tony’s and gripping his hips. Their joint possessiveness was thrilling and something Tony had never enjoyed in lovers before, in fact, quite the opposite really. But he didn’t mind when they did it.

Bucky pulled away to look at the two of them, “why are you here? Shouldn’t you be basking in the morning glow of it all? Maybe another round?”

Tony leaned up to press his mouth to Bucky’s before pulling back to say, “oh, there is going to be another round certainly. But, I told Steve I wanted you to be there for it.”

Bucky’s eyes widened as they flickered to Steve’s over Tony’s shoulder, seeking confirmation. Tony wasn’t sure what Bucky saw in Steve’s face, but he smiled a beautiful grin that lit up his entire face, “well, then, let’s not waste anymore time in the kitchen.”

Tony frowned, “well, honestly, I have fond memories of us and kitchens. And tables.”

Bucky laughed, “I’ll save you from having to climb any tables today,” he said before kissing Tony, his hands running through Tony’s hair even as Tony’s hands moved to grip the back of Bucky’s shirt at his waist to force their hips together again.

Tony heard Steve chuckle and say something about needing a bed. But Bucky and Tony were too busy kissing to pay attention to anything else and they let Steve guide them through the house and to the bedroom. Once he had seen them safely to their destination he started stripping, moving towards the bed and leaving them behind to continue exploring all the things about each other that he already knew about both of them.

They began with attempting to strip one another in between kisses. Bucky’s shirt fell to the floor and Tony’s brows drew together, his fingers coming up to trace the winding, vine-like scars crisscrossing up and down Bucky’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered.

“I’m sorry too,” Bucky watched as Tony’s fingers moved over his skin making him shudder, “… that you and Steve have to look at them.”

Tony looked up to Bucky’s face then, “no, I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you completely.”

Bucky brought his hands up to frame Tony’s face, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth, “you tried darling. That’s what matters.”

Tony stepped back from Bucky, reaching for his own shirt, “your scars aren’t ugly. They’re proof that you _survived_.”

As Tony’s shirt hit the floor next to Bucky’s he stood and let Bucky look his fill. Tony knew the moment that he saw the knot of scars on the left side of Tony’s stomach where Stane’s bullet had pierced him. There was a matching one on his back. It had been a clean shot, straight through, but Tony hadn’t sought out medical help till the day after the incident and there had only been so much the family physician could do at that point. It hadn’t healed clean.

Bucky reached out to trace his fingers over it like Steve had done, and then trail them up Tony’s side and across his chest and neck till he could grab the back of his neck and bring him back in for another kiss, this one hungry and passionate and thankful that he had found someone able to accept every part of him just like Steve had always done.

Bucky pulled back, stroking his fingers across Tony’s cheek, “I suppose you’re right.”

“You’re both beautiful,” Steve was already naked, laying propped up in bed, waiting, “and you should both hurry-up this process and come to bed.”

“Impatient,” Tony laughed.

“Just for that, I think we should make him wait a little,” Bucky smiled.

Tony grinned back, “what do you propose?”

Bucky sank smoothly to the floor in front of Tony and only smirked harder when it earned him twin moans from the other two in the room. He worked the laces of Tony’s breeches and tugged the material down over hips and ass and cock until Tony was bare to the room and then he used his strong hands to wrap around the back of Tony’s thighs and hold him as Bucky stuck his tongue out, running it up Tony’s length.

Bucky’s tongue teased Tony’s slit and his eyelashes fluttered, as he tasted Tony for the first time. Bucky chased that taste for a few minutes, licking Tony in long passes and pressing his tongue in and around the head, enough sensation to drive Tony out of his mind but not fulfilling. Tony let his fingers trail through Bucky’s hair, thinner than the thick hair of his coat when he was in wolf form, but just as soft.

Tony held off thrusting into Bucky’s mouth, trying to be gentle and keep the pace Bucky had set. Suddenly, Bucky sunk down on Tony’s length all the way until Tony could feel the flutter of Bucky’s throat as he worked to relax. Tony let out a shocked cry, throwing his head back and tightening his grip in Bucky’s hair.

Tony tried to pull back, to give Bucky room to breathe, but Bucky growled, his fingers gripping the back of Tony’s thighs harder and holding him in place. He pulled back and then sunk down again. Tony jerked in his grasp, the sensation edging him towards climax now.

A movement from the bed drew his attention and Steve gracefully climbed off the bed to sink to his knees behind Bucky, giving Tony a wink before nuzzling the back of Bucky’s neck, his hands gripping his hips. _This was a development_ , thought Tony, and then Steve started to speak and Tony’s mind went hazy.

“God, Buck, look at you,” he inhaled in Bucky’s hair, one hand gripping his hip and the other trailing up Bucky’s clothed cock and naked chest to press his fingers to the front of Bucky’s throat, feeling where Bucky worked to take more of Tony in, “I knew you looked good doing this to me, but I didn’t know how good you’d look on your knees for someone else.”

Bucky moaned which caused Tony to whimper. Tony wasn’t sure if he’d ever adjust to Steve’s mouth. Had he been a sailor in a past life? Maybe a courtesan? The filthy things he said… and Tony had heard some filthy things in his time.

Tony looked into Bucky’s eyes, which had opened at the press of Steve’s hands on him. The grey looked like molten silver, burning into Tony even as he pulled back to take a breath before diving back in.

Steve’s hands moved, the hand on Bucky’s neck coming up to press fingers into his jaw to force his mouth wider and the other dipping into Bucky’s breeches to grip his hard cock and squeeze.

Steve looked-up at Tony and smirked, “you can thrust your hips, he can take it. Can’t you?” As if on command, Bucky whined and his grip urged Tony forward.

Tony moved his hips forward tentatively in shallow, short bursts. Bucky moaned encouragingly, maybe from Tony fucking into his mouth but maybe also a little from the movement of Steve’s hand over him. It didn’t take long like that for Tony to come, warning Bucky as much as he could though it didn’t deter the werewolf from taking him deeper, wanting Tony’s taste on his tongue in a primal way.

When Tony made a complaining noise at Bucky for licking at his over sensitive cock, hands released him finally so he could sink to his knees in front of Steve and Bucky. They made quite the picture, Bucky with his head tilted so Steve could lick into his mouth, chasing Tony’s taste even as Bucky panted to regain his breath. Steve with his hand now moving faster over Bucky as he thrust up into Steve’s grip.

Tony leaned in as Steve pulled his mouth away. He gently gripped Bucky’s chin and turned his face towards Tony so that he could kiss him deeply before pulling back to murmur, “you were so good, so beautiful...”

Bucky came then, gasping and spilling over Steve’s hand and his own stomach and getting some on Tony too. Tony swiped his hand through a little bit of it and licked at his finger to get a taste. Both Steve and Bucky made equally aroused noises.

“We should move this to the bed,” Bucky sounded winded.

Tony looked down at he and Bucky’s current states, “it seems like Steve’s the only one right now who’s up for anything. I’m gonna need a moment.”

Steve snorted, “you’ll be ready by the time we prepare you. Bucky can take you while I have him.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “okay, but…”

Tony didn’t exactly see what Steve did, but one of his hands disappeared behind Bucky and suddenly Bucky cried out and his body quaked, his hips jerking away from Steve’s touch in surprise and then back as if he had second thoughts about pulling away. Tony watched mesmerized as Bucky’s cock filled again.

Bucky’s mouth fell open and he shuddered, “Christ, Steve, warn a guy,” but his voice didn’t sound very angry.

“That, is a neat trick,” Tony said. 

Steve smirked, “we have a very quick refectory period.”

Tony grinned, “a _very_ neat trick.”

Tony scrambled up and onto the bed before the other two could move, “in that case, what are we waiting for?”

Steve and Bucky chuckled and then groaned as they climbed onto the bed. Tony rolled over and spread his legs unashamedly, wanting. It was Bucky this time with the oil on his hands, and the patient stretching. He was gentler than Steve had been, probably because he had taken the edge off, or, maybe that was just Bucky. Tony couldn’t wait to find out. All the things they could do together. This was just the beginning, and that thought had him pushing his hips back into Bucky’s fingers.

With his other hand Bucky skimmed his fingers up the backs of Tony’s thighs and up to where his legs met his ass, “you got bruises here darling,” he pressed gently into the marks Steve’s hips had left.

Bucky leaned over to suck little kisses into the skin of Tony’s lower stomach, ignoring the valiant efforts of Tony’s cock to come back to life as Bucky’s fingers stroked into him and over that little bundle of nerves inside him. Tony groaned as one of Steve’s hands came around to press at one of the bruises too.

Bucky smiled, “I love that you let Steve mark you up like this. He likes to see his hard work on display and they don’t last long on me. You bruise beautifully.”

“I had to practically beg him, actually,” Tony gasped as Bucky got three fingers into him, pressing a little harder than normal as Bucky jerked and moaned from Steve’s own fingers preparing him, “he was worried about hurting me.”

Bucky moved up to kiss Tony, almost sighing into it when Steve did something he liked, “of course we don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulled back and grinned down wickedly at Tony, “but, a little pain…”

He trailed off and raised one eyebrow before moving to sink his teeth again into the bruises Steve had left on Tony’s neck and Tony shouted, “yes!” hips and body bowing up at the pleasure-pain edge he craved.

Steve leaned over then, trailing kisses down Bucky’s spine, “I think we’re all more than ready. Buck, you get situated and then I’ll enter you.”

Bucky moaned, moving to line-up to sink into Tony, moving at a slow pace and gently pressing his hips to Tony’s in deference to the bruising as he pushed in as far as he could go. He leaned over Tony, propped on his forearms and waited for Steve. Tony worked really hard not to move his hips and stared into Bucky’s eyes to ground himself, lifting his hands to run gentle fingers through long, soft hair.

Bucky’s head fell forward on an exhale as Tony felt Steve move into Bucky. It was an odd intimacy to be completely surrounded by these two men, getting to watch them join themselves in such a way that was both familiar and unfamiliar with Tony participating.

Steve took a moment to adjust, before he was gripping Bucky’s hips to guide him back as Steve moved his hips back, before pressing forward again – Steve into Bucky into Tony, a chain reaction. It was heavenly. Bucky’s face twisted with pleasure and Tony worked to lock away the memory of this moment forever. Steve was basically doing all the work, Tony noticed, using his strength to fuck Tony using Bucky.

Bucky dropped his head down to press his face into Tony’s shoulder, heaving breath, trembling, and Tony felt every bit as out of control as Bucky looked. Tony could see Steve now, with Bucky tucked into and over Tony’s body. He could witness the determination and the arousal on Steve’s features as he snapped his hips forward and tightened his arm and shoulder muscles to move Bucky’s not inconsiderable weight.

Tony was on the precipice again; he just needed that last little nudge to fall over the edge. He tried to thrust his hips up onto Bucky as Steve thrust down. He did that a few more times and then when he knew he could time it right he sunk his teeth into Bucky’s neck as he and Steve pressed Bucky between the two of them.

Bucky shouted, his cry of pleasure muted in Tony’s shoulder and the mattress, but the way his body flexed between the two of them, the feel of him coming apart in Tony, was enough to send Tony off the edge, calling out for both Bucky and Steve. Tony watched as Steve moved in and out of Bucky a few more times before his hips stilled and he filled Bucky up, who moaned again. Werewolves were just filthy, Tony decided. He loved it.

It was a while before anyone had the strength to move and Tony had zero complaints about being at the bottom of the pile with the warm weight of two very satisfied weres on top of him. Once they did move there was a lot of licking of Tony’s stomach where he’d come all over himself. He’d laughed and tried to push them away, but two determined tongues had licked over every inch of his chest and stomach as he groaned at how oddly good it felt.

Once clean up was done they all collapsed into bed. It was mid-morning judging by the light outside, but a well-earned nap was agreed upon and Tony dozed for a bit, waking occasionally to hands and lips trailing over parts of his body. The parts of Bucky and Steve that were pressed up against him were making a comforting rumbling, humming, vibration Tony could feel down to his bones. He remembered that he forgot to ask about wolves purring. Oh well, maybe he’d remember when he woke-up next time.

Tony woke to Steve’s voice, “it’s lunch time, we need to get up and do something productive.”

Bucky scoffed, “we don’t have to get up to do something productive.”

Tony smiled without opening his eyes and said, “do you guys notice that you’re purring or do you just do it? Do you call it purring?”

Bucky frowned, “excuse me?”

Steve hid what sounded suspiciously like a laugh into the pillow.

Tony hadn’t moved from his comfortable werewolf sandwich. He had barely opened his eyes, but when they’d woken him up talking about getting out of bed he’d remembered about the rumbling thing they had both done now multiple times.

Bucky made an affronted noise before Tony could answer, “Tony, _kittens_ purr, we don’t purr.”

Tony opened his eyes wider now, “oh, really?”

He rolled until he was facing Steve, their bodies flush and Tony’s face pressed in to where Steve’s neck and chest and shoulder came together. He made his body go lax as he felt Steve’s arms automatically come around him. Tony smiled, letting his lips press soft, open kisses to Steve’s skin as one hand reached out to pet down Steve’s neck, shoulder, and arm in smooth, slow strokes. It was all Tony could do to keep from crowing with smug glee when a rumbling, vibration started up in Steve’s chest. It was a low, deep, soft sound that translated into a buzzing sensation along Tony’s skin where he was pressed to Steve.

Tony heard Bucky curse a blue streak and he smiled into Steve’s skin, “I wasn’t trying to insult you. I was just curious. _I like it._ The way it feels on my skin when I’m pressed between you.”

Tony couldn’t see Steve’s face but he sounded like he was smiling when he said, “well, to be fair, we don’t call it purring. But, wolves do make happy rumbling noises when we’re…” Steve searched for the word, “… contented.”

Tony sighed, “it makes me feel contented too.”

He felt Bucky press up against his back, hands moving over Tony’s body using the same lazy strokes Tony was giving Steve, “we’re still _not_ calling it purring,” he groused.

Tony grabbed at his hand to bring it up to his mouth, placing a kiss on his palm, “we’ll call it _contenting_. 

Steve chuckled and then sighed, “we can’t lay about in bed all day and do nothing. There’s stuff that needs taking care of.”

Bucky whispered, “ssshhh, we’re _contenting_ , Steve. That’s not _nothing_.”

Bucky’s chest started to rumble softly against Tony’s back as he felt Bucky nose at the hairs on the back of this neck, “no,” Tony said, “it sure isn’t.”

  

 

A few weeks later, in the middle of the night, Tony woke without knowing why, only that he was pressed to Steve’s side with the blonde softly snoring. A shiver ran through him and he realized his back was suspiciously cold. Still not quite awake he reached out to where Bucky should be in the bed behind him but he felt only cold sheets.

He jolted awake, shaking Steve and looking around the room, nothing seemed amiss, “Steve, wake up.”

Steve stirred beside him, mumbling. He could probably see much better than Tony who fumbled out of bed by the low light of the embers from the dying fire.

Steve sat up cautiously, “what are you doing?”

Tony was in fact looking for his clothes, “Bucky’s gone.”

Steve was wide awake, looking across the bed and then reaching out to feel the cold sheets like Tony had done. Steve frowned but didn’t panic, “he could be prowling.”

Tony sighed, “I know that Steve, but we both know that neither one of us is gonna sleep while he’s out there.”

Steve moved off the bed to get dressed, “you’re right.”

They got dressed to just the right side of decent and grabbed a lantern from beside the bed, another from the kitchen, before heading out into the night.

Steve looked out in the direction of the moors and the tree line of the forest and then towards the town, “should we start at your hen house?”

Tony punched him lightly on the arm, “you think you’re funny, but you have not an ounce of humor.”

Steve just grinned, but as they considered where and how to look for Bucky they heard shouting from further into town. There were people, holding lanterns, moving towards them in the night.

Steve moved in front of Tony slightly who just rolled his eyes. As they got closer they could see it was the Banners, Bruce and Betty, as well as the widow Parker, Mae, Tony was pretty sure her name was.

Steve hailed them as they approached, “good evening, we thought we heard a commotion. What seems to be the problem?”

Mae Parker looked distressed as she said, “my boy, Peter, you know him, young lad, small for his age? He was playing with a frog in the backyard after supper and I turned my back for only a moment and he was gone.”

She was babbling poor thing, probably shock thought Tony. He looked to Bruce who was already looking at Steve with concern, “we’ve been searching the town and the edges of the forest as we go for a few hours now... leaves the moors.”

Steve nodded, wondering if Bucky wasn’t already on the hunt, or if Bucky’s absence was unrelated. It didn’t rightly matter, he and Tony would help find Peter.

Steve gave Mae Parker his most sincere look, “well, more eyes is always a good thing, Tony and I will help search. We’ll find your boy.”

They set off together towards the edge of town where it gave way to the wilds of the open fields and then blended with the forests to one side.

They each took turns calling Peter’s name as they made it onto the moor proper, their lanterns doing little to light their way. It had been a scant 10 minutes when they heard a faint, “mama.”

Tony thought Mrs. Parker was going to collapse but she just called back calmly, “Peter? Is that you little one? Follow the sound of my voice. 

And then, emerging from the darkness in front of them came a small little shaggy haired boy clutching in his tiny fist the fur of a great big white wolf.

To her credit Peter’s mother only gave a small cry of alarm but managed to hide it well as her son ran into her arms and away from the wolf who was sitting attentively at the edge of the lantern light.

Steve and Tony were giving the wolf looks that were equally annoyed and fondly amused as it stared coolly back.

Peter was talking so fast that Tony thought he might hurt himself, “mama I followed the frog as it hopped away into the woods and then I got lost and it was dark and I was scared but then the wolf found me and it was a nice wolf like those stories you tell me of the fa-fa-falodahs and then it let me pet it and I knew that it would take me home so I wouldn’t be lost anymore.”

Mae was doing her best to not cry as she hugged her son again and tried to follow his harrowing tale of adventure. Tony had to cough into his sleeve so he wouldn’t laugh.

She stood up and took Peter’s hand in hers to start walking back home, “well, it sounds like you’ve have quite enough adventure for one evening and don’t think for a second that we won’t be having a long talk about following frogs...” she cut off abruptly and sucked in a harsh breath as Peter darted back towards the wolf.

Tony understood now what Steve had been talking about when he’d said the townsfolk didn’t trust them. Mae was grateful to Bucky for bringing her son home, but it didn’t stop her from worrying that this wolf that had let her small son grip it’s fur and follow it to safety wouldn’t suddenly turn vicious and attack.

Nobody moved as the little boy hugged the wolf around its soft, furry neck and said, “thank you for helping me find my mama.”

The wolf stood stock-still and let Peter press his face into its fur almost as if the wolf was as shocked as anybody there. Then Peter walked back to his speechless mother, who simply said, “thank you, to _all_ of you, for helping me find my boy.”

They set out then, heading back for town. The white wolf finally moved, walking to sit next to Tony, his body leaned up against Tony’s leg and hip.

Steve glanced over at them both, “are you crying?”

Tony sniffed, “Christ! Shut up. I can’t help it. It’s just so...”

Tony couldn’t really explain how he felt. He knew the legend of faoladhs and he understood that they were inherently good. But Bucky had suffered unimaginable pain at the hands of humans very recently, had been shown the worst of what they were capable of.

But instead of letting that twist his perception and color his interactions with them, especially in wolf form, he had continued to show compassion. Bucky had turned brutality around into gentleness. Tony couldn’t help the tears. Hopefully they just thought he was happy that Peter had been found. His tight grip on the fur at Bucky’s scruff probably gave him away. 

Banner nodded at the three of them before turning to follow his wife who was walking with Mae and Peter.

Steve just nodded back and Tony spluttered, clearly not used to this sort of thing, “that’s it? You don’t have any questions?”

Steve’s face took on a pinched look but Banner just looked back with an enigmatic smile, “my family has been in this town for three generations. It’s pretty common knowledge to most of us that there’s a carpenter and his... _business partner_... who have lived here for quite some time and never age. And every once in a while, a wolf or two will save a child from some horrible accident, or from getting lost, or will guide a wayward traveler to our tavern. Honestly, I find it best not to ask questions.”

With that he turned and walked away. Tony smiled and said to Steve, “you really weren’t kidding about the whole open secret thing.”

Steve just shrugged and turned to walk back to their house, “let’s go back to bed.”

  

 

It was a few weeks later and Tony had stayed up late in his basement working on some new projects. He’d been so exhausted that he’d just fallen into bed. He was woken up sometime later, still in the dark hours of the morning, to hands gripping and pressing him from his stomach to his side.

Hot skin was pressed against his back and front as the night prowling visitors snuggled up to him, twin sounds of contentment echoing through the room as they all settled in to go back to sleep. He mumbled something about _tactile wolves_ and drifted off surrounded by warm and the smell of Bucky and Steve.

The next morning they were all having tea in Tony’s kitchen when Steve suddenly said, “I’m tired of having to go back and forth between houses.”

Tony froze with his teacup halfway to his mouth, “what do you propose?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “just move in with us, Tony.” Bucky was smirking, but Steve looked nervous.

Tony tilted his head as if he was considering, “alright, but the chicken coop comes with me.”

Bucky made a whooping noise and leaned in to kiss Tony hard on the mouth, “whatever you want. But, just so you know, chicken coops have been known to attract wolves.”

Tony just smiled a knowing smile and said, “hah, wolves. I’m not worried about wolves. I’m worried about _other_ predators.”

Bucky looked confused, “what’s that supposed to mean? Other predators?”

Tony let his eyes flicker to Steve’s, “I once caught a full-grown man, naked, picking the lock on my hen house in the dead of night. He ran away before I could shoot him, but God did he have the most amazing ass I’ve ever seen.”

Steve laughed so hard he fell out of his chair.  
  
  
  
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